Reunion
by Bex
Summary: The 8th Doctor meets Grace again...as well as an old adversary. (NOW COMPLETE)
1. Part 1

**Reunion - Part 1**

**February 9, 2000, 2 p.m., San Francisco**

A tall, overcoated figure stood, ignoring the light February drizzle that suffused the air with chill moisture. The man stood patiently, taking no heed of the occasional gaggles of joggers making their way around the edge of Lafeyette Park. He had eyes only for the row of homes across the street, and especially for the lone grocery-bag laden woman making her way up to one of the condos.

Doctor Grace Holloway shifted the bag of groceries cradled against her left arm as she rooted around in her pocket for her keys. Leaning forward, she let herself into her condo. Neatly avoiding the mail piled on the mat just inside the door, she placed the bag on a chair nearby as she reached down to scoop up the envelopes.

She swiftly scanned through them. Junk, junk, bill, letter from a friend, junk. Tossing the junk in the small wastebasket next to the door, she bore the rest and her groceries up the set of steps into the kitchen/dining area, where she began to efficiently distribute her purchases to fridge and shelves. Although there had been some good deals at the supermarket, she hadn't gone overboard.

After all, she wouldn't be here for very much longer.

She'd held back the letter of resignation she'd planned to give Swift immediately after the New Years holiday, and had taken a leave of absence instead, putting her networking skills to good use. She took a moment to recall the time she'd spent interviewing for the cardiology position at the Bergman and Whitman Hospital in Boston. She'd felt so confident, so sure of herself. She'd known she had the job from the start.

Destiny, she'd decided, had nothing to do with it. If it made her feel this great, she'd help an eccentric alien 'Time Lord' save the entire planet anytime.

Grace shook her head. As the weeks went by, some of what had happened on New Year's Eve was taking on a dream-like quality, even though she _knew_ it had happened. She had bid the Doctor farewell as he'd left in his time-traveling ship and had returned home with a renewed sense of purpose that had made her feel wonderful.

She still had a lot to contribute. But not in San Francisco, not any more. It was time to move on.

Grace glanced over at the answering machine. One message. She hoped it wasn't another nuisance call. Someone had called several times at odd hours over the last few days, hanging up the moment she'd answered. She paused, musing. She hoped it wasn't Brian. She smiled a bit ruefully. If he'd seen the way the Doctor had joyfully grabbed and kissed her - and the way she'd kissed him back -- upon his recovering his memory, Brian would have moved out even faster.

She shook her head. _Talk about your fast 'rebound relationships'_... Grace laughed. Well, it had been one hell of a first and last date. Her alien friend was out there, _somewhere_, traveling around - the guy with two hearts. Idly wondering what the odds were that she'd ever encounter another alien, she continued to put away her groceries.

She was opening the letter from her friend Claire when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she inquired, continuing to rip open the envelope. There was a brief silence. Then: "Hi, Grace...I called earlier, but you weren't home..."

Brian. She put down the letter. "Hi," she said in return, neutrally.

"I wanted to call to explain why I did what I did on New Year's Eve," he said, hesitantly.

"Oh, I'd say you got your message across. It was a little hard to miss," she said sharply.

There was a pause. "Yeah, I know," he finally said. He sounded contrite. In her mind's eye, she imagined a little image of Brian, stolid executive suit and all, cap in hand. "I know what I did was pretty extreme, but I was just so angry, I didn't think about what I was doing. I just wanted to make a statement," Brian told her.

"You certainly did," she said, a little absently, beginning to tear little ragged strips off the edge of the envelope.

Brian paused. "I thought maybe we could get together to talk about it. How about at your place, later today?"

_You mean tonight?_ Grace thought, incredulously. _Hoping for some of that really close, personal discussion? Let bygones be bygones?_ She shook her head. "Look, Brian, I don't know what you hope to accomplish, doing that. In case you _didn't_ know, I'm moving to Boston soon."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "I...see," he said, finally. "Well, that was quick." The petulance she'd become very familiar with in recent months crept back into his voice. "You _have_ found someone new. I knew it was something like that."

"Now wait just a minute -- this has nothing to do with anyone else!"

"Oh, come on - nobody moves that quickly! You've been planning this for some time, haven't you? You must've been really happy when I moved out on my own. Were you really working all those late shifts at the hospital?"

Grace ground her teeth. Here they went again with the sullen insecurity. "Look, Brian, if it makes you feel better, go ahead and pretend, but I haven't met anybody new. We just weren't working out, and we both know it."

"Then who was that guy you were seen with at the ITAR party?"

Grace hung her head in despair. _Some alien guy whom I was helping to save the world._ Oh, this was crazy; this was insane.

This was a waste of her time. "Just a friend. _You_ certainly weren't around."

There was a silence. Ha, a hit! Then she winced. This was ridiculous. "Look, I don't see that we have anything to discuss. You made it quite clear where you stood. What's done is done. All right?"

Silence.

"Brian, are you there?"

"I see. Go ahead and do whatever you want," he said, thickly. He hung up.

She sat for a moment, then slowly eased the headset onto the cradle and let out a deep breath.

**February 10, 2000, 1 p.m.**

The next day, Grace was out to lunch at Betelnut with a couple of friends. Their entrees had just arrived, when she saw a familiar figure threading its way through the crowded lunch-time tables.

She sighed, heavy-hearted. "Hello, Brian," she said.

"Oh, hi, Grace," he replied, with deliberate casualness, nodding at her dining companions, Ann and Theresa, both collegues at Walker. He performed a quick scan of the dining room, as if expecting his romantic rival to suddenly appear. "I saw you, so I thought I'd say hello."

She said nothing, a frozen polite smile on her face. She could feel Ann's and Theresa's sympathetic looks.

Normally, he would have automatically joined them, unless he was at a business lunch. This time, there were several long moments of uncomfortable silence, while he waited expectantly for an invitation.

Brian blinked and found himself the focus of three keen female stares. His eyes narrowed. "Well, I see you're really busy, so I'll be on my way," he informed them, huffily. He turned and strode angrily away.

There was another short silence, before Ann spoke up, too brightly. "Well!" she said. "How are the moving preparations going, Grace?"

--

The nuisance phone calls continued. She considered reporting them to the phone company, but decided it wasn't worth the bother. It wasn't as if they were obscene phone calls -- probably just some kid. They were really nothing to worry about.

**February 12, 2000, 9 p.m.**

"Good-night!" Grace called, smiling broadly to a large and very happy (and somewhat tipsy) group of friends from Walker Memorial Hospital. They were just leaving the ThirstyBear brewpub/restaurant, where they'd just thrown her a going-away party. She was touched at the number of people who had shown up; she had the feeling that there had been a lot of schedule juggling, because several of the people there usually worked evenings.

Digging for her keys while clutching the collection of cards and gifts she'd been given, she wasn't paying attention to what was going on around her, instead contemplating the prompt writing of thank-you notes...

A shape loomed suddenly out of the shadows of the parking lot. Startled, she jumped, then sagged with a combination of relief and annoyance. It was Brian.

"Brian, what are you doing here? Are you following me?" For a moment, she thought uneasily of stalkers. But Brian wasn't like that; he was the type to sulk, not follow her around. But then why was he here? The restaurant meeting could have been just coincidence, but this... "What do you want, Brian?" She raised her voice, and saw with satisfaction out of the corner of her eye that a number of the departing party attendees had heard and turned to watch. Good. If he tried anything...

Then she got a good look at the expression on his face as he came fully into the glow of a nearby street-light, and flinched back instinctively. His face was twisted with emotion. He took a half-step forward, his hands coming up, clenched. "Grace, I need to talk to you! We can't go on like this -- for chrissake, will you give me a chance to tell _my_ side of it?"

"Brian, you're making a scene!" she hissed. "What the hell do you want from me?! _You're_ the one who moved out!"

"Dammit, why do you have to be so superior all the time--" He reached forward and grabbed one of her arms. She jerked back, shocked, and her collection of cradled gifts cascaded to the asphalt.

"Hey, hey, hey -- what's going on here?" a male voice suddenly inquired behind them. It was Pete. Behind him cautiously trailed several of the others.

Grace knew that news of the split between her and Brian had gone around through the hospital rumor mill. What she found to be surprisingly endearing, in the midst of her acute embarrasment, was the way the others were throwing displeased looks at her ex in her defense. _My friends,_ she thought. _I'm certainly going to miss you..._

Brian let go of her arm and stepped back, glowering. "Nothing," he said curtly. "We were just talking."

Unmollified, they stood, giving Brian narrow looks, while Ann and Pete helped Grace pick up the things she had dropped. They waited while she got into her Ranger. She leaned out of the window. "Thanks, guys. For everything."

Pete leaned forward. "No problem." His voice dropped down low. "You sure you're all right?" he asked.

She smiled tiredly. "I'm sure. He's not usually like this." He glanced back darkly at where Brian still stood, staring at the group where they were protectively clustered around her Ranger. "Yeah, well, be careful. He looks...weird to me. If you need any help, don't be afraid to call somebody."

They stood waving, as she started up and swung out of the parking lot.

She shivered a little in the chill night air as she let herself into the condo, and couldn't help glancing warily around. Brian's behavior _had_ been disturbing; she'd never seen him act that way before, try to manhandle her like that. Could the stress of their break-up be affecting him this badly?

Well, it was just as well that she was moving, making a new start on the East coast. This whole business with Brian had left a bad taste in her mouth. At least she wouldn't have to worry about running into him on the street...

It had been a busy day. She headed down the short hallway to her room, and to bed.

**February 13, 2000, 2:53 a.m.**

Grace Holloway awoke, blinking up at the ceiling. Something was not right.

Suddenly aware that something wooden was touching her right hand, she turned her head to see what it was.

Sprawled next to her, half-wrapped in the sheets of her bed, was Brian, his bare chest and arms covered with a multitude of gaping red knife wounds. His eyes gazed sightlessly upwards. The wooden something was the handle of one of her kitchen knives. She was grasping it loosely, and it was covered with a slick of drying blood.

That was when she screamed.

** To be continued...**


	2. Part 2

**Reunion - Part 2**

Grace stumbled from her blood-stained bed, dropped the knife, and retched.

Nothing came up, though tears stung her eyes. She knuckled the moisture away and stared at the corpse of her former live-in lover. "My God," she whispered. "Oh, my God."

The last thing she remembered doing earlier that evening was double-checking that the doors were locked, then going to bed.

She wrapped her arms around herself, heedless of the bloody fingerprints they left on her charmeuse nightgown, then rapidly backed into the corner next to the bed with a dull _thump_. She stood there for some minutes, simply staring, stunned. "This has got to be a dream," she whispered hoarsely. "I've got to wake up."

Nothing happened.

"God, please let me wake up!"

She became aware of the ticking of the dresser clock. Squinting, she was barely able to see that it read: 3:00 AM. Outside, the normal San Franciscan night sounds could be heard. Suddenly, her ears picked up the distant wail of a siren, and she twitched. Slumping slightly, she began to hyperventilate. Abruptly, she stumbled away from the corner, and tottered her way around the room, giving the bed a wide berth.

"My God," she whispered, "what am I going to do?" In shock as she was, she still knew how the situation would look to the police. This whole situation was insane. She hadn't even been seeing Brian any more, yet he was somehow here. She was either insane, or dreaming, or...

Or had been set-up? But God, _why_? By whom?

She averted her eyes and clenched her teeth in a rictus of despair as she passed the other side of the bed, heading for the bedroom door. As hurt as she had been when he had moved out, she would never in a million years have wished this on Brian. Her friends and family would know this, too. But what, realistically, could she expect the authorities to think?

She could still hear the siren, wailing in the distance. Had someone heard something, called the police?

A sudden wild plan ripped through her head (hide the body clean the knife leave today yes leave NOW). Then she hesitated, slumping again in despair, leaning against the door jamb. That sort of thing didn't work.

Oh, God. They were going to arrest her -- they'd have to; the evidence all pointed to her. A failed relationship, angry phone calls, an argument in public just this evening. Brian had behaved so strangely, accosting her like that...

She suppressed a hysterical laugh and closed her eyes, blinking back the tears that were starting to leak out. She wasn't waking up -- this nightmare wasn't going away. She took a deep, shuddering breath and stood up straight. She was going to have to get a grip on herself, and face this.

She thought of calling her father, or Cathy or Jim, but stood, hesitating. This would kill them. And something as lurid as this was bound to get publicised...

Grace walked unsteadily down the hallway to the bathroom. There, she shakily washed off the blood as best she could. She supposed that was destroying evidence or something, but she couldn't bear to think of facing the police in her current state of disarray. Walking back to the bedroom, she numbly divested herself of her stained night-dress and reached for underwear, slacks and a shirt.

She made the mistake of glancing over at the bed as she dressed, and flinched at the sight of Brian staring up at the ceiling. Normally, he would have been staring at _her_, with that familiar look...

No no stop thinking about that oh God He's DEAD

She slumped to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

--

Some time later, Grace walked slowly down the short hallway to the kitchen/living room, dread tugging at her heart. She was going now to call the police, to turn herself in. Doing the right thing.

She padded reluctantly into the kitchen, then stopped, hesitating near the stairs as she looked over at the phone.

Once she made that call, there was no turning back. They would come, and arrest her, and the whole chain of events would be set into motion. What if she couldn't prove her innocence; what if nobody believed her? What a lame-brained excuse: 'Your Honor, I know it looks bad, but he really wasn't there when I went to bed...'

The looks on the faces of Brian's family. On her father's. On the faces of her friends and former collegues.

And so much for her move to Boston, to her new position at the Whitman and Bergman. Even if she was able to somehow prove that she hadn't done it, who would want to employ a doctor who'd been accused of murder?

Somebody had gone to an awful lot of trouble to destroy her life. But even worse than that was the thought, way in the back of her mind, that perhaps Brian had come to the house, that she had let him in; that something had happened... Could she have traumatic amnesia?

"Oh, God..." she keened from between clenched teeth, as she slumped, sitting down heavily on the top step of the stairway.

Down below, in her living room, a voice chuckled, there in the dark.

"Oh, no," it said. "Just me."

She froze, clenched in horror, then abruptly lurched to her feet. How could she have been so careless? The murderer was still in the house!

As she took a step backwards, a sudden wild hope took hold of her. If she could just get the police here now, before he could escape, then she could start to find a way out of this horror!

Then she heard him beginning to speak again, and froze, listening.

"I have to admit to some surprise that he hasn't shown up, yet.," the voice told her.

She squinted in the direction it was coming from. The speaker seemed to be sitting in the armchair in the dark corner, the one that had replaced the sofa Brian had re-possessed.

"I thought for certain that he would have been here already. Ah, well. No plan is certain."

Grace stared. What on Earth was he talking about? A mentally unstable person -- that would explain it, yes, that fact that Brian had been killed, while she'd been inexplicably spared. This person had somehow broken in here, and killed Brian, what, while she'd slept? She'd have woken up! And how had Brian gotten here? Perhaps the killer had hit her or something. That could explain her lack of memory about what had happened.

She backed carefully up into the kitchen area, hoping to attract no more attention. Let him ramble, sitting there in the chair, while she dialed the police...

"Doctor Holloway, what are you doing?" The obscurely accented voice sounded amused.

She twitched. Behind her, she heard the sound of someone getting up from the chair and walking across the floor downstairs.

It was not a very large room. Within seconds, she heard him beginning to climb the stairway. Gasping, she whirled, the receiver in her hands. Putting it down, She darted forward, intending to flee to the bedroom, lock herself in and call the police from there.

Too late. She froze as a sillhouette appeared at the top of the stairway, pausing in the entrance to the kitchen area. She shrank back against the counter, glancing around for a weapon. Her eyes fell upon her knife rack, and she shuddered.

The figure stood, regarding her. It was a tall, lean man, middle-aged, dressed all in black - black turtleneck, sport jacket, trousers. His hair was blond and slicked back, his features sharp. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall.

"Going somewhere?" he asked her, an undertone of mockery in his words. "What's the matter - got a guilty conscience?"

She took a deep breath. He seemed fairly coherent, for a disturbed individual. "Why did you do this?" she asked, as evenly as she could.

"I?" He spread his arms wide in a gesture of wounded innocence. "I'm not the murderer here, Grace. _You_ are. Ironic, really -- a healer murdering."

He was mocking her. She defiantly again took the phone in her hand and started to shakily punch in 911. She felt rather than saw the smile. "Oh, please do, Doctor. The police will be _very_ interested to find out what has happened here."

She hesitated. He was awfully coherent. Her earlier suspicions of having been framed re-surfaced. "Why did you do this?" she asked again, more strongly. "Who are you?"

He tsked. "And we were together just a few days ago... Oh, but I forget: so much more time has passed for me than for you," he said, lightly. "And I look different now."

She frowned.

He sighed. "And I suppose you were distracted -- you _were_ screaming at the time." He started toward her. She dropped the receiver and slid alongside the counter, trying to keep the dining table between them, and groped for a knife.

"Stay back," she told him, shakily, brandishing the carving knife. "I'll use this if I have to."

He stopped momentarily, tilting his head. "Oh, indeed," he commented sardonically. "You already _did_."

Grace stared at him, appalled. "I did _not_!" she whispered.

Then, in a blur of movement, faster than she would have believed possible, he was upon her. Grabbing her arms, he twisted, and the knife clattered to the floor. All she could do was stand, frozen, her arms gripped tight.

All right. This madman was going to kill her. She closed her eyes, hoping it would be quick.

"I was so close," he told her with soft menace. "I almost destroyed him - the closest I've ever come." The grip on her arms tightened painfully. "But for _you_."

The bizarre events of New Year's Eve flooded back into her memory, and her eyes flew open as she finally connected the fantastic events of that night with the stranger's sardonic statements.

The Time Lord known as the Master threw back his head and laughed, delighted. "Oh, Doctor Holloway, if only you could see the look on your face - priceless!" He stared hard at her again. "But only the smallest bit of what you owe me for interfering."

**To be continued...**


	3. Part 3

**Reunion - Part 3**

Grace Holloway stared, appalled, at the man in front of her, and swallowed in a suddenly-dry throat. "_Y-you're_ supposed to be _dead_!" she blurted out.

With a snort of annoyance, the Master let go of her arms, shoving her away. She stumbled back against the counter and stood, watching him warily as she rubbed her arms where he had gripped her.

"I swear, all one has to do is panic you primitives, and you lose all power of coherent thought," he commented, disgusted. He blocked her way out of the dining niche. She stood there, and felt the shock and fear thawing, transmuting into something new. Anger. He pulled out a chair from the other side of the dining table and sat down. Indicating the chair opposite him, he said, "Have a seat, Doctor."

She stood, now glaring at him. "Go to _hell_! You come into my house, and you-you-"

"_Sit_!" he snapped. She abruptly found herself sitting in the chair he'd indicated, and stared at him, afraid again. He leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and sat at ease, glancing idly around at the walls and the bric-a-brac. His glance flickered over to the clock on the wall nearby.

Despite the accumulated shocks of the evening, Grace's mind was beginning to thaw out. "Why are you doing this?" she asked carefully, her voice low.

He looked at her sharply, a dissecting glance that made her feel acutely uncomfortable. She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.

"I have just destroyed your future," the renegade Time Lord told her, simply. He smiled at her coldly.

She sat, numb. Well, he had certainly done that, all right.

"You made quite a name for yourself, Doctor." He laughed. "Or, rather, you were going to. I saw that it would take relatively little interference to shift your future in quite a different direction." He waved a hand. "It's all gone. All the promise, all the good deeds. All the accomplishments."

There was really only one question to ask. "Why?"

He eyed her again, sharply. "For interfering, Doctor." He smiled, thin-lipped. "I don't like people who interfere with my plans."

So. She had no real idea what antagonisms formed the history of the Doctor's and Master's enmity (curious, the similarity of the two titles). Just a long-standing rivalry, of no meaning to anyone but the combatants themselves. And the victims of the fall-out of their battles.

Still... "Yes, I interfered," she said. "And I'd do it again."

The Master looked at her, tilting his head. Despite the discomfit of his gaze, she looked steadily back. He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head. "Where does he find you all?" he asked, bemused.

Grace frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"His loyal pets. Willing to follow him, and obey his various whims. In some cases, to die for him." He laughed abruptly at the look that involuntarily crossed Grace's face. "Oh, come now, Doctor - did you really think you were anything more to him?

She sat, uncertain.

"You were a tool, to be used, and sacrificed if necessary, against me."

But she really hadn't gotten such an impression from the Doctor, even for the short time she'd been with him. She'd felt like a partner, thrust with him suddenly into the middle of a crazy adventure. Rushing around, scarcely time to catch a breath... It had been something. Despite her predicament, she smiled slightly, momentarily lost in reminiscence.

Across the table, the Master's eyes narrowed. He looked to the clock.

Grace jumped, jolted out of her reverie, as her captor's chair scraped back. He stood up and stretched his intertwined hands luxuriously, then motioned peremptorily with a hand. "Up," he commanded.

Her eyes narrowed. "I am _not_ a dog," she snapped.

He smirked. "As you say. But when I say get up--" here he strode quickly around the table and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her out of her seat - "you will get _up_."

Grace grimaced as he hauled her inexorably by the arm out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the bedroom. She stumbled away, fetching up against the side of the bed and flinching instinctively away from Brian's outflung left arm, as the Master let go of her.

The Master smiled at her then as he removed a small bottle from a pocket. "Desperate to escape your horrible deed, you are about to attempt to overdose on sleeping pills, Doctor Holloway," he explained, lightly. "Luckily, or should I say, unluckily in your case, you won't succeed. Still, it should be the clincher, in the eyes of the Prosecution, wouldn't you say?"

"Why-?" she blurted out, confused.

"Why don't I just kill you? I _already_ did that once."

She stared at him.

"No," he continued, in good humor, "no such easy way out for you, this time. You will spend a very long life in prison, reviled as a murderer. _That_ is the only destiny left for you." His voice dropped sinisterly. "I will personally guarantee it."

He twisted at the top of the bottle and frowned momentarily. He appeared to be having trouble opening it.

Grace decided to try for some information, anything to distract him. "Why _Brian_?" she asked, though she already knew.

"Do you know what you are, 'Doctor'?" the Master inquired, looking up. "You're a first-degree murderer. Ah, I can see the newspaper headlines now: 'No Angel of Mercy'. Oh, and my favorite: 'Deadly Doctor'. He chuckled. "In time, even those closest to you came to doubt you. You see, the evidence against you was _so_ conclusive." He shook his head in mock sadness.

Grace stared back at him, unnerved by his switch of tenses. As if he'd already _seen_ the future. As if it were a fait accompli...

The Master glared at the bottle and _squeezed_. The top popped off, and he poured a liberal pile of pills onto his palm, then stepped toward her. "Come on, Doctor - time to take your medicine."

Grace glanced wildly around. Reaching over, she grabbed the vase on her bedside table and yanked the flowers out of it.

The Master paused, one eyebrow raised.

She held the vase protectively before her in both hands. "You didn't think I was going to swallow all those _dry_, did you?" Then she tossed the water in his face. As he stumbled back, she flung the vase at him as well, then made a break for the doorway.

She almost made it. Grace let out a involuntary shriek as she was seized from behind and twisted around. Grabbing her by her shoulders, the Master glared directly into her eyes. She stared back, unable to look away, unable to move, unable to think...

A handful of pills was carefully poured in her mouth. The hand then grabbed her jaw, holding her mouth closed. "_Swallow_," the hands' owner commanded her in quiet but deadly earnest. Her throat automatically convulsed. "Good girl."

She stood, staring dully ahead. He gazed at her for a few more moments, then, tiring of the game, twitched his head toward the bed. "Go to sleep, Grace," he said, softly. "Mrs. Trattorio next door has heard a noise, you see. The stage must be properly set for the authorities when they arrive." He gave her a gentle shove between her shoulder blades in the proper direction.

She stumbled towards the bed-

-you get in my house?" Grace hissed, jumping out of bed and looking around for an impromptu weapon. Part of her mind noted that the clock on her bedside table read 2:05 am.

The blond man in black standing in her bedroom doorway ignored her question. He had frozen abruptly, a strange expression on his face. "Oh, yes; he's _here_," he stated, suddenly, smiling fiercely. "I can feel it - he just cut that timeline. Well, all of this _has_ achieved its purpose, after all." He started toward her.

"Purpose? What purpose? What the hell are you talking about?!" Grace backed up rapidly until she ran out of room. She stared at the stranger, the fear momentarily paralyzing her. Then she willed herself to move, to do _something_ - and couldn't.

Worse than a nightmare, or else one she couldn't wake up from-

The man stared at her, smiling cruelly. "You've quite the short memory, Doctor Holloway. Perhaps _this_ will jog it." He glared directly at her as his eyes narrowed- -and a cascade of images flashed through her mind, and she remembered the _impossible_-

Grace Holloway screamed for the second (or was it the third? or fourth?) time that night. She sagged in the Master's grip, her dazed mind spinning with memories of what had been, what could have been, what might be -

The murder had happened - No, it _hadn't_ happened - It had been erased as if it had never been - Or was it about to happen - The Doctor's doing - The Doctor had left weeks ago - No, he was here _now_-

"You killed Brian," she exclaimed hoarsely, for sanity's sake focusing on the present, "but now it hasn't happened-" _How can I remember something that never happened?!_ "It's the Doctor, isn't it? Somehow he fixed it-" So great was her relief that her mouth twisted in a grim but triumphant smile. "He _fixed_ it!!"

That declaration appeared to annoy the Master. Grace abruptly found herself twisted around with her arms bent at an extremely awkward angle up behind her back.

"Doctor Holloway," the Master told her calmly, "the game has only just begun. Tampering with your future was a message that I knew the Doctor would be unlikely to miss, or ignore. As I expected, he has come here to find out exactly what happened, to try to restore your original destiny." He snorted in contempt. "He's always been sentimental in that way."

"Oh, I see," she gasped. "First, he was just using me, but now he's come here just to help me. Why don't you get your story straig - agh!"

The Master pushed Grace before him in a merciless grip back through her house. She stumbled along, her mind awhirl. He'd done all this just to get the Doctor's attention.

"Then what is it you-" She paused, her heart sinking. "Look," she suggested, "this time when you two go fight it out, just leave me out of it, okay?"

The Master paused in the kitchen area, looking around suspiciously. Grace saw nothing unusual. Wondering if he were distracted enough for her to break free, she twisted frantically.

Not even deigning to display anger, the Master yanked with practiced, casual cruelty, and she gasped as a jolt of red-hot pain tore through her shoulder. He leaned close to her ear. "Doctor Holloway, it would take very little more to permanently dislocate your arm," he told her with extreme reasonableness. "Do. Not. Push. Me."

She blinked back tears of pain as he pushed her ahead of him down the stairs and towards a tall Shaker entertainment cabinet in the corner. It certainly hadn't been there when she'd come home earlier that evening. The renegade reached forward and placed his palm on one of the cabinet doors, then pushed it open. He and Grace passed through the opening, and the door swung shut behind them.

Soon after, the room echoed to the roar of well-tuned time engines, as the cabinet faded away and disappeared.

**Lafeyette Park, February 13, 2:00 a.m.**

A man stood, peering nervously through the chill San Franciscan night air. He was of medium height, had tousled brown shoulder-length hair, and was unusually dressed in understatedly-elegant nineteenth century clothing. Prowling along the edge of the park opposite the night-dimmed line of condos he was watching, he glanced once again at the scrap of newspaper he held in one hand.

"Come on," he muttered in frustration, looking up again. "I know you're out there!"

Somewhere nearby, a man was making his way towards his own murder. The Doctor absently rubbed his right-hand thumb. _By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes._ Would come. Had come. Whatever. Evil was definitely abroad tonight.

There was only one person he could think of immediately who should know about his acquaintence with Grace, who would have any reason to strike at him through her... What he wasn't sure of was whether the Master - assuming he was indeed the culprit - was setting these twisted events in motion personally, or whether he had, as so often before, sent mind-controlled henchmen in to do the dirty work.

In any case, that his long-time nemesis should stoop to such vindictive plotting was very troubling.

A sudden noise caught his attention. Peering cautiously around a tree, he saw a lone man making his way across the park towards the condos. Glancing once more at the photo in the newspaper clipping, the Doctor compared it to the approaching man. Yes, it was Brian Dempster, Grace's ex-boyfriend and soon-to-be ex-everything - unless he could stop him. Stuffing the clipping into a coat pocket, the Time Lord stepped resolutely out from the shelter of the grove of trees.

"Brian," he called, not too loudly.

The man's head jerked up, and he glared with blood-shot eyes at the incongruous figure standing before him. "Who the hell are _you_? What do you want?" he demanded truculently.

The Doctor peered carefully at the agitated man in front of him, trying to assess his mental state. "Just to talk to you," he said cautiously.

"Got no time," the man proclaimed. "Got to go see Grace." He swerved around the Doctor and strode on, directly towards her condo. Damn - the man was either obsessed, or under the power of suggestion. Either way, this was likely to get ugly...

He strode up behind Brian, and latched a hand onto his left shoulder- Brian whirled around, angrily flinging the Doctor's restraining hand off.

"Listen to me. Do _not_ go to Grace's house. You'll be kill-"

Not the best choice of words of warning, he realized a second later, as Brian, not even letting him finish, swung out a fist at him, his face screwing up in fury.

"I _knew_ it," the tow-headed man snarled, advancing upon the Doctor. "You're her new guy, aren't you? Well, I'm going to go see her, and you can't stop-" Too angry to finish a coherent sentance, he attacked.

**To be continued...**


	4. Part 4

**Reunion - Part 4**   
  
  
  

    
    The Doctor side-stepped Brian's first rush and caught his arm as he went by. Hetwisted, turning the larger man's momentum against him--
    -and Brian suddenly found himself sitting down hard with an _oof!_ on the
    leaf-littered park grass. He looked up, blinking, to see the other man looking
    down at him.
    "Sorry," the stranger said. "Are you rational now?"
    Brian glared daggers. "Son of a-" He tried to scramble to his feet.
    "Guess not," the oddly-dressed man concluded, sighing. Stepping quickly
    back, the Doctor reached into a pocket and quickly rummaged for a moment.
    Removing a small shiny object, he held it up for his antagonist to see.
    "Look," he exclaimed. "See?"
    Brian stared. "It's a watch," he grunted, finally getting his feet under him and
    standing up. "That's not going to help you, you-"
    "Yes, but look at it - look at how shiny it is," the stranger said soothingly,
    swinging the pocket-watch gently to-and-fro.
    Brian frowned. "What the hell are you-" He paused. It _was_ shiny. Very
    pretty. He stood still, watching the soothing rhythmic movement.
    The Doctor cautiously approached the mesmerized man. The fact that he had
    gone under so quickly was a sure sign that his mind had already been tampered
    with. The Time Lord supressed another sigh. This definitely had the Master
    written all over it.
    "Now, Brian," he said quietly, "I want you to tell me why you were going to
    see Grace at two in the morning."
    Brian spoke hesitantly, his eyes never leaving the continuously-swinging watch.
    "Have to. Have to see her."
    "Yes, but why?"
    Brian frowned. "Man told me. Told me she was waiting to see me."
    The Doctor considered for a few moments. It would be safest if Brian waited
    in the TARDIS until he could find out exactly what was going on. "Brian, listen
    to me, very carefully. She _is_ waiting for you, but she doesn't want to see you
    at her place. She's over here..."
    The Doctor cautiously steered Brian toward the TARDIS standing in the moonlight
    several hundred meters away. Upon reaching the worn blue time capsule, the Doctor
    quickly unlocked it and ushered the dazed man inside.
    So muddled was Brian Dempster's mind that he didn't even seem to notice the
    vast difference between the inside and outside dimensions of the Doctor's
    transdimensional traveling vehicle.
    The Doctor sat him in an armchair, and stood, regarding him critically. Had his
    interference so far been enough to turn Grace's life back to its normal course?
    Even as he mused, he felt a _ripple_ of distortion run through his mind, and
    shivered. There it was - a localized time ripple, signifying the change.
    But this wasn't over yet - if the Master were actually here, Grace could still
    be in terrible danger. He stood momentarily, hesitating. Then, his decision
    reached, he strode to the console and programmed in a short hop into Grace's
    condo.  
    The Doctor gingerly stepped into Grace's living room, and stood momentarily
    still, every sense at full alert.
    He felt nothing.
    He was just about to go check to see if Grace were in her bedroom (quite an
    explanation _that_ would require, if she suddenly awoke and caught him peeking
    into her room, he thought with a quick smile), when he saw the note.
    With a feeling of dread, he advanced upon it. As he read the words scrawled
    upon it in a script alien to Earth, his hearts sank, his worst fears confirmed.
    Stuffing the note into a pocket, he turned and strode back into his TARDIS-
    -and was almost decked by a panicky Brian as the man lashed out, startled,
    at the stranger entering the vast gothic room. The Doctor thanked his reflexes
    as he ducked away.
    "Who are you?" Brian shouted wildly. "Where am I?!"
    The Doctor paused. "I am the Doctor. You're in my TARDIS."
    "Well, how did I get here?! The last thing I remember, I was at my place,
    watching TV! How the hell did I get _here_?!"
    The man was close to panic, but the earlier hypnotic programming seemed to
    have worn off. "Excellent!" the Doctor proclaimed. "What do you remember?"
    Brian stared at the bizarre, beaming person in front of him. "I was watching
    TV, and...I thought I heard someone else in the room, but when I turned to
    look..." He paused, his face twisted. "I don't remember. And now I'm
    here - where am I?!"
    "I told you. In my TARDIS."
    "What the hell is _that_?"
    "Time and relative dimensions in space. You, Mister Dempster, are in my time
    ship," he said, pointing at the anxious man in front of him, as he hurried on by,
    toward the console, "and I'm afraid I don't have the time to answer all your
    questions right now. I've another TARDIS to track."
    Brian gaped at the Doctor. "I'm dreaming," he decided aloud. "I'm having
    one whopper of a nightmare."
    The Doctor looked up momentarily from his manic perambulations around
    the wooden console, and laughed in indignation.
    "What, _this_ a nightmare?" Above their heads the skyview flickered on,
    showing a majestic view of the local space-time continuum. A faint light trail
    could be seen spiralling through it. "A plain trail," the Doctor muttered
    suspiciously, staring at it. He reached forward and activated the
    dematerialization sequence.
    Brian shook his head a little. His dreams usually didn't talk back to him.
    Maybe he was having one of those, what were they called, 'lucid' dreams.
    Yeah, that was it...
    He looked around him at the magnificent Gothic edifice, then at the
    archaic-looking person rushing around the noisy central console, and
    wondered what unresolved issues all this stood for.
    Besides the break-up between him and Grace, that is.
    "Well, if it's a lucid dream, I'm supposed to be able to wake up. I read that
    somewhere," he muttered, to himself.
    "Yes, but which is the reality, and which the dream?"
    Brian looked up. The 'Doctor' character had ceased his mad frenzy of activity
    and was leaning, arms folded, against one of the flanking beam supports that
    surrounded the console.
    "You go away," Brian told the figure sternly, pointing at it. "This is *my*
    dream." He turned and marched resolutely towards the doors by which the
    'Doctor' had entered the room. "Now I'm leaving this dream. I'm waking
    up, now!" he shouted up at the beamed ceiling.
    He reached for the doors and found them immovable. Gritting his teeth, he
    pulled as hard as he could, but they refused to budge.
    "I'm sorry," said a voice behind him, "but as long as we're in flight, the
    doors will not open."
    Brian whirled. "You're still here?" he exclaimed. "Damn, I really am in
    a nightmare! What're you going to do now, turn into a monster?" he asked,
    fearing that the reply would consist of an evil cackle and a transmogrification
    into something horrible.
    The Doctor regarded the frightened man before him with something akin to
    pity, and sighed. "Mr. Dempster," he began, stepping down from the edge
    of the console flooring, "no one here is going to hurt you. Not me, not the
    TARDIS. In fact, she quite likes humans."
    "Uh-hunh," Brian replied cautiously, staring.
    The Doctor gazed at him. So sad, the fear born of such limited imaginations.
    They became progressively shackled under the immense weight of mental chains
    of habit as the years pased...
    "Well," Brian asked, plaintively, "when do I get to wake up?"  
      
    The Master pushed Grace into the dim recess of his TARDIS. As soon as they
    were inside and the doors had swung shut, he released her. She stumbled but
    regained her footing, as he strode over to the central console and began to
    activate various controls.
    But Grace had no attention to spare for that -- she was too busy looking about
    her in awe.
    The interior of the Master's TARDIS was as different from the Doctor's as
    their two personalities apparently were, but was in its own way, starkly beautiful.
    Columns of black stone shot through with green surrounded the central console
    and rose, arching, towards a high ceiling. Actually, everything in this circular
    room - walls, floor, and ceiling - was composed of this subdued, dark material.
    The effect was at once sinister and elegant, a combination of an Art-Deco and a
    Grecian look.
    She turned slowly, looking all around.
    Suddenly, she heard a sound she'd never thought she'd hear again, and looked
    over at the console. The time machine was activating, with a muted version of
    the Doctor's TARDIS's grinding roar.
    Oh, right - she was being kidnapped by an evil, twisted Time Lord. Right.
    Somehow, being in a TARDIS again and hearing that most peculiar noise was
    bringing it all back to her. Her memories of New Year's Eve began to sharpen,
    losing some of their dream-like fuzziness. She was, once again, stuck in the
    middle of an insane adventure not of her own choosing.
    _Deal with it,_ something in the back of her mind said. _Suspend disbelief.
    Handle each event as it happens._
    Well, that had worked last time.
    Grace took a deep breath, steadying herself, and turned to see what this 'Master'
    character was up to. She blinked in surprise. He was gone - had he left the
    console room for other rooms, in a ship as sprawling as the Doctor's TARDIS
    had been?
    Well, far be it for her to just stand around and wonder. She warily approached
    the central console, half-expecting someone or something to come leaping out at
    her. Nothing happened, and she glanced quickly at the controls, trying to recall
    some detail of what was what, from her few lucid moments at the Doctor's console.
    She hesitated, dithering uncertainly. _Well, do something, before he comes
    back!_ her internal voice scolded her. _Sabotage the ship, mess up his plans, do
    **something**!_
    Grace reached resolutely forward to move a lever--
    ** ! **
    The next instant she found herself sprawled on the floor several meters away.
    She shook her head, dazed, as someone nearby chuckled.
    "My, how intrepid," the Master commented. "However, unlike the Doctor's
    TARDIS, mine _doesn't_ like humans."
    Grace blinked, shaking off the after-effects of whatever it was that had zapped
    her, and reflected that she was _really_ starting to hate this Master guy, with his
    perpetual smug arrogance-
    She yelped in protest as he came forward and casually hauled her up off the
    floor by her sore arm.
    Oh, yeah - she also hated how he kept man-handling her.
    "Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual," she informed him tersely, jerking instinctively
    back, then wincing as her sore shoulder protested.
    He smirked. "Come along, Grace," he said, propelling her down a corridor of
    the same green-veined black marble as the console room. "Got to keep you out
    of mischief." He stopped at a door. "This will do."
    The door opened, and he shoved her inside. Even as she turned to glare, the
    door slid shut.
    It was just a little room, with no amenities. Dim. Depressing. Cold, too. She
    shivered a little and wrapped her arms around herself and her nightgown.
    Needless to say, the door didn't open when she approached it, searching vainly
    for any sign of a handle. She considered kicking it, but after what had happened
    at the console, thought better of it.
    "Even the ship has it in for me," she muttered sullenly.
    Next, she walked the confines of her small prison, examining it closely for
    anything that might help her escape.
    Nothing. The complete lack of anything other than four walls, a floor, and a
    ceiling meant, she hoped, that she wouldn't be in there very long. Then again,
    this 'Master' was an alien, and who knew how they thought? Maybe he just
    didn't care.
    Depressed, she slumped against a wall and slid down it to sit. The way he'd
    looked at her, as if she were just some _thing_...
    She hadn't slept the night through, and she'd been confronted with several
    major shocks. With nothing to do but wait, she eventually fell into an uneasy
    slumber.  
      
    To be continued...

  
  



	5. Part 5

**Reunion - Part 5**   
  
  
  

    
    When nothing horrible appeared out of thin air to attack him, Brian Dempstercalmed enough to gingerly accept the offer of a seat. He sat down carefully in
    one of the comfortable chairs that stood to one side of the Console, next to the
    library alclove. The Doctor sat down opposite him.
    Brian glanced around at the books and antiquities on the shelves around them,
    at the stone walls with their arcane carved motifs, among them a strange seal that
    he'd never seen before, and a bearded man's head.
    "Gee," he remarked, slightly bemused. "I didn't know I had such a good
    imagination. I've never seen this stuff anywhere before."
    The Doctor tilted his head to peer owlishly at his guest. "What makes you so
    very certain that this is all a dream?" he inquired mildly.
    Brian stared back at him, unnerved. The Doctor saw the now familiar flash of
    fear in the man's eyes.
    "Well, come on; you can't just be in your own house, and then suddenly end
    up somewhere else! I must've fallen asleep. That's the only explanation that
    makes sense..." He trailed off. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?!" he
    suddenly snapped.
    The Doctor blinked. "I'm sorry; was I staring? It's just that I find it a bit hard
    to understand why you find this all so disturbing." He waved a hand in illustration
    as he glanced around the Console Room. "That you don't have the imagination
    to believe the input of your own senses," he finished somewhat challengingly,
    looking back to his guest.
    Brian frowned at the insinuation, and the Doctor supressed a smile. _When one
    way does not work, try another._
    "Yeah, well, if this is all so real, how did I get from my place to here without
    even knowing it?" Brian demanded.
    "You remember nothing?"
    Brian considered. "Well, now that you mention it, besides that I thought there
    was someone in the house...I remember that I was outside. Yes, I was outside. It
    was cold." He frowned. "I was going somewhere - I had to get to somewhere.
    Very important." He looked up suspiciously. "Was that _you_ in my house?"
    The Doctor shook his head. "Not me, Mr. Dempster, but someone I know. Not
    a friend. He is an expert at manipulating minds, and tonight he manipulated yours."
    Brian looked back at him, a strange expression on his face. "What, d'you mean
    I was _hypnotized_?"
    "Somewhat more complicated than your average 'hypnotism', Brian, but basically,
    yes."
    "Why?!"
    "He intended to cause your death, and in doing so, to ruin Grace."
    "Grace! What does _she_ have to do with this?!"
    "Everything," the Doctor admitted with a sigh, momentarily glancing down.
    Brian's expression shifted at the sight of his host's obvious worry.
    The Time Lord looked up again at his guest, desiring absolution. "Grace is in
    terrible danger, Brian, because of me. The Master, the man who hypnotized you
    tonight, wants to hurt her, to strike back against me. He's taken her.
    "She helped me once when I had no one else to turn to, despite the fact that she
    found all of this as unbelievable at first as you do. She helped save me, and _all_
    your planet.
    "It's my turn to help her now."
    Brian stared at the man in front of him, his mind awhirl. What was all this he
    was hearing-? It sounded incredible, crazy, a dream-
    Yes; only in a dream could things be this strange. Well, he'd probably wake
    up soo-
    "Brian," his host asked earnestly, leaning forward. "Will you help me?"
    Brian stared back, bemused. Well, it was obvious now that this was some sort
    of guilt dream over his break-up with Grace. Perhaps if he played along, it would
    help him resolve his feelings. She'd been too picky and often not there for him,
    but he had to admit, deep down inside, that he hadn't been the easiest person to
    live with; he could sometimes be grouchy, occasionally snappish. It was the stress
    of his job, of course, but he knew he should try not to let it get the best of him.
    "Yes; all right," he said, feeling humble and virtuous.
    A smile broke out over the Doctor's face, instantly transforming him. "Excellent!"
    he exclaimed, suddenly jumping up from his seat. "We have no time to lose! The
    TARDIS is tracking them now; the instant they land, she will let us know. We must
    be ready!"
    "For what?"
    The Doctor spread his arms wide. "For anything! For everything! For a struggle
    to the death, most likely..." He looked at his guest and saw the man staring back
    at him with wide eyes. "Well, all right, perhaps that was overstating the case a
    little. Though the Master never fails to be disagreeable, every time I run into him.
    Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. He jammed his hands into his coat pockets and
    began to rummage around, searching for something within. "Considering what
    happened the last time we met, I'd say...a struggle to the death it will probably
    be," he concluded energetically. "Except he doesn't play fair."
    "How do you mean?" Brian asked carefully, humoring him.
    "He's used up all his lives, yet he keeps escaping the grip of Death," the Doctor
    informed him, a touch darkly. "Doesn't know when to pack it in."
    Brian considered that as the Doctor resumed his search. Was it true that if you
    died in your dreams, you died for real? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat,
    then twitched, startled, as the Doctor suddenly let out a triumphant exclamation.
    "Ah-ha!" He yanked a white paper bag out of his right-hand pocket, then leaned
    forward.
    "But I have been a poor host," he said, contritely. "Brian Dempster, would
    you like a jelly-baby?" He extended the open bag towards his guest.
    Brian peered at his host uncertainly, then glanced at the bag. The way he'd said
    that...it was as if it was symbolic, or something. This must be something important
    in the dream that he should do. He reached carefully forward for one of the
    'jelly-babies', removing a small red-colored jelly candy shaped, yes, like a baby.
    He held it up, staring at it. Did this stand for the fact that he and Grace were
    obviously never going to stay together, get married, and have any kids? He
    looked up at the 'Doctor' character, who was watching him closely. Was he
    supposed to really eat it, was that part of the ritual?
    The Doctor smiled encouragingly. "Go ahead; try it. They're good."
    Well, the Doctor seemed to be an important part of this dream, and he hadn't
    done anything bad to him (so far), so...
    Brian Dempster took a bite out of the candy. It was strawberry-flavored. He
    finished it, then looked expectantly at what he now considered to be the guiding
    figure of his dream.
    "Good?" Brian nodded cautiously in response. "Have some more. Take
    several; they're small." The Doctor again offered him the bag.
    Brian's eyebrows rose slightly. What was he supposed to make of *this*? He
    reached in and scooped up a small handful.
    The Doctor also picked several out and began to munch them as he wandered
    away from the chairs, muttering to himself.
    Brian was beginning to feel somewhat more relaxed. Usually you could tell
    pretty fast when a dream was going to be a nightmare; so far, this one merely
    ranked up there with the bizarre. He glanced about, and decided to risk having
    a real look around. You were supposed to be able to learn things about yourself
    from what you saw in dreams...
    He got up and began to wander about the large, Gothic room.
    "Looks like...a church," he muttered to himself. "Well, we'll never get married.
    Guess that explains _that_..."
    He stuck the remaining uneaten candies in a pocket and stood, hands on hips,
    staring at the strange six-sided console in the middle of the room. "What in
    the heck is this?" he asked no one in particular.
    "That is the TARDIS Control Console," someone answered right next to him,
    and he jumped, turning to glare at the 'Doctor', who had suddenly appeared
    behind him.
    "Oh. Control," Brian said, dully, glancing back to the console. Well, _that_
    one was easy. He wanted control over his own life; didn't everybody? Then
    again, maybe this was just reminding him that he couldn't control his relationships.
    Right; that was it - you couldn't have everything go the way you wanted it.
    _No kidding_, he thought sullenly.
    Brian walked over to the shelves of books he'd seen while sitting in the easy
    chair, and began to scan the shelves, feeling intrigued. Maybe, he mused, feeling
    amused for the first time since he'd realized he was having a dream that he
    couldn't seem to wake up from, there'd be something really obvious, written
    on or in one of the books. Books stood for self-knowledge, right? What better
    (and more clever) way for his subconscious to tell him what he needed to know
    than in a book?
    Grinning, he reached forward for a volume. Pulling it out and opening it to
    the title page, he saw that it was a copy of 'Journey to the Center of the Earth',
    by Jules Verne.
    Hunh. Science Fiction. He flipped quickly through the pages but saw nothing
    but printed text. Looking more closely at the title page, he noticed that it was a
    very old-looking book, bound in cloth, though in very good condition. There
    was an almost illegible scrawl on the opposite page. Squinting, he saw that it
    read...Jules Verne. It had been autographed by the writer.
    "Wow, this would really be worth something in the real world!" he exclaimed
    spontaneously, wondering if this was his way of telling himself to start investing
    in rare books.
    The Doctor's eyebrows flew up. "In the real world-?" he replied, sounding
    slightly indignant. "Oh - I see. You still think you're dreaming all this," he
    realized, spreading his arms wide as he glanced around the Console Room and
    its comfortable niches set along the sides.
    He walked toward where Brian stood warily frozen, still holding the book he'd
    been perusing, then stopped a couple of meters away, eyeing the young man
    critically.
    "Normally it wouldn't matter," the Doctor told him. "But where we are going,
    for you to assume that you are in a dream from which you will awaken the
    moment things become dangerous could prove deadly."
    Brian stared back at him. Uh-oh. He'd done something wrong. It must've
    been the books - he'd been thinking of all the money he could make on first
    editions like these. Greedy. Bad. He hastily replaced the book on the shelf
    and stepped away from the stacks.
    The Doctor watched this bemusedly. "What will it take, I wonder, to convince
    you?"
    Brian swallowed uneasily. "Look...I'm sorry about the books, okay?"
    "The books? Oh, never mind that!" the Doctor told him generously, stepping
    next to him and throwing an arm around his shoulder as the other man flinched.
    "You can look through the library any time you want! But the issue here is how
    to get you to participate fully in _this_ reality. I'm normally loathe to define
    any being's reality for them, but I've much more experience in this sort of
    situation, so it really would be best for you to follow my lead."
    Brian stared at the bizarre fellow, unnerved.
    The Doctor stood, momentarily pondering. "Ah - I have it!" he exclaimed
    suddenly, removing his arm from Brian's shoulder. He glanced at his guest,
    a mischevious glint in his eyes. "Come on - there's something I want to show
    you."
    Thorougly bemused, Brian followed his 'Dream Guide' through the Gothic
    room, out a door in back, and down passageway after winding passageway.
    Eventually they came to another door through which the Doctor led him.
    Brian stepped into a high-ceilinged room that, in contrast to the rest of the
    dreamscape he'd seen, was a calming blue-green. In the center of the room
    was a beautiful old-fashioned tiled swimming pool.
    Brian stood at the edge of the pool, wondering what it symbolized. His
    guide came up beside him and clapped him companionably on the back.
    Then he gave him a hard shove.  
      
    To be continued...

  
  



	6. Part 6

**Reunion - Part 6**   
  
  
  

    
    The TARDIS corridors just beyond the pool room suddenly echoed to a wildmale shout of surprise. If anyone had been passing by at that moment, theywould also have heard quite a big splash.
    Inside the pool, Brian resurfaced, flailing and sputtering.
    "What the - what the _hell_!" he shouted, blinking rapidly. The water was
    shockingly cold, and he automatically kicked his shoes off.
    A few moments later his vision finally cleared and his outrage focused on its
    proper target: the grinning, tousle-haired figure who was standing on the pool's
    rim, leaning over to peer at him, hands braced on knees.
    This was too cold, too wet. Too real.
    "What's the big idea?!" Brian shouted, in high dudgeon.
    The Doctor's grin widened. "Welcome back to reality, Mr. Dempster!" he
    called.
    Brian floated, treading water. He glanced incredulously around at the
    exspensive shoes that had just sunk to the bottom of the pool, his bedraggled
    clothing, his water-logged Swiss watch (which was _not_ water-proof). It was
    just all too ridiculous...
    He began to laugh. A little, at first. Then more. Within seconds, he was
    laughing uncontrollably. For a few moments the laughter took on a frantic
    quality, and the Doctor peered at him intently. But the incipient hysteria soon
    passed, to the Time Lord's relief.
    Brian floated and laughed, his fit finally winding down to a few chuckles.
    He attempted to muster up his outrage again, with some difficulty.
    "What the _hell_ were you thinking!" he exclaimed. "I could've drowned!"
    "The former captain of the UCLA swim team? I think not!"
    "Yeah, well, how'd you know-" Brian paused, a strange look upon his face.
    "I've never met you before today - this is - this feels real," he concluded. He
    began to swim over to the side of the pool opposite the Doctor. "Look, I'm
    getting out," he said. "Don't push me in again, okay?"
    "I won't as long as you stop going on about how this is all just a dream."
    Pulling himself out of the water, Brian slumped down on the pool's edge,
    eyed the Doctor warily, and dripped. He coughed a few times, and said hoarsely,
    "All right - I never had a dream that felt like _this_. But you seriously expect
    me to believe all that stuff about being in some kind of space ship, flying around?
    I mean, _come on_!" He waved a hand at his surroundings. "Even if I believed
    in spaceships, which I don't, what would a _pool_ be doing in one?"
    The Doctor tilted his head and eyed his drenched guest. Progress was definitely
    being made; the lad was putting forth a reasonable argument instead of taking
    refuge in flat rejection.
    "_I_ didn't call the TARDIS a 'space ship'," he reminded Brian mildly. "You've
    labled it that because you have no other frame of reference."
    "So what is it, then?"
    The Doctor considered a moment, searching for a more accurate description his
    human companion could understand. "A pocket dimension," he said finally,
    looking up again. "Right now, you exist in a pocket between the dimensions
    you normally move through."
    Brian stared back at the man. He could just about accept that he was actually
    awake, and in a strange, elegant building, trapped with someone who had their
    own version of reality but didn't seem _too_ dangerous, but _this_?
    A 'pocket-dimension'? The way he'd said it, as if it were the simplest thing in
    the world...
    The man in the green velvet coat standing at the pool's edge either _was_
    completely insane, or was telling the truth.
    Brian pushed his bedraggled wet hair off his forehead, then flapped his
    still-dripping hands in annoyance. "What," he asked no one in particular, "am
    I _doing_ here?" He got gingerly to his feet, wincing at the feel of water-logged
    clothing, and began to move around the pool's edge, still keeping a wary eye
    on the Doctor, who had begun to stroll around to intercept him.
    "Literally or metaphysically?"
    Brian halted and stared narrowly at the Doctor for a moment. "Literally," he
    replied shortly.
    "Oh, _that's_ easy. You're here to help me rescue Grace."
    "Oh, that's right," Brian muttered. "You said some guy had kidnapped her..."
    He shook his head slightly. "Look, why would anyone want to kidnap Grace?
    She doesn't have any enemies..."
    "She does now."
    Brian paused momentarily in realization. "Because of _you_, you mean." He
    lifted a hand, shaking an index finger at his host. "You said she helped you...
    Wait a minute," he said abruptly. "Are you the guy she was with at the ITAR
    party on New Year's Eve?"
    The Doctor shrugged. "I needed a beryllium chip. Still have it, in fact."
    Brian stared at him. "I...remember," he said slowly. "In the news the next
    day, they said the big fancy atomic clock they were unveiling wouldn't work,
    big snafu. That was _you_?"
    The Doctor looked momentarily sheepish. "Well, it was either that, or let the
    Earth go down the drain. Literally."
    Brian's shoulders slumped. "Oh, _man_..."
    His guest was fast approaching information over-load again, the Doctor
    realized - time for a break. "You," he informed Brian, "look like a drowned
    rat. Come on!" He strode energetically out of the pool room. Brian looked
    after him, shrugged, and followed.  
    The Doctor led him to yet another room. This one contained clothing of all
    descriptions (and some that defied it). His bizarre host then instructed him to
    help himself to whatever he needed to replace his current soaked outfit.
    "When you're done, return to the Console Room - the large room you were
    first in," the Doctor told him, before disappearing out the door.
    Brian searched around and found replacements reasonably similar to what he
    was wearing. Getting into dry clothing made him feel vastly better. Not sure
    what to do with his own wet clothing, he left it draped over a large standing
    mirror. Going to the door, he stood, peering in both directions. The Doctor
    had spoken as if it would be perfectly clear which way to go to return to that
    large Gothic room.
    It wasn't. On impulse, he struck off to his left. He'd gone a few meters when
    he slowed, feeling a sense of..._wrongness_. It just didn't feel _right_ to be
    going that way.
    He instinctively turned on his heel and started the other way. Now he felt
    much better, and picked up his pace. A few corridor twists and turns later,
    he turned a corner and found himself stepping through a doorway - into the
    'Console Room', as the Doctor had called it.
    He stood, looking around again, paying attention in a way he hadn't before
    his salutatory dunking.
    A room, a spaceship, a 'pocket-dimension'. Take your pick.
    He looked up at the skyview. A line of yellow spiralled through a starfield.
    He suddenly realized his mouth was hanging slightly open and shut it.
    The Doctor glanced up from the console. "Excellent!" he exclaimed.
    Following the direction of Brian's gaze, he said, "That line represents the
    direction the Master's TARDIS has taken. We are, of course, following them."
    "The Master?"
    "Yes."
    "He's the guy who took Grace?"
    "Correct," the Doctor said, while tending to some dials.
    Some of what he'd heard earlier was coming back to Brian. "You said he
    wanted to kill me to get to Grace to ultimately get to you...?"
    The Doctor glanced up. "Yes."
    "So that's _them_, flying. And we're following them."
    "Yes."
    "Oh, _God_..."
    The Doctor regarded Brian sternly. "Mr. Dempster, why is this so difficult
    for you? I know it's a few years yet before Earth gets her first 'official'
    extraterrestrial contact, but did you really believe that the Earth was all alone
    in the universe?"
    Brian didn't have to think much for that one. "Yes," he replied immediately,
    looking perturbed.
    The Doctor turned back to his tasks. "Well, then you've gotten your perspectives
    broadened today."
    Brian stood and opened and shut his mouth several times, as he stared at the
    man leaning over part of the console. If they really _were_ flying around through
    space as the screen overhead indicated, then this Doctor guy had to be some type
    of alien. He was standing a few yards away from some _alien_ guy, and all this
    'Doctor' could say was 'you got your perspectives broadened today.'
    "You don't _look_ like an alien," he blurted out.
    The Doctor glanced his way and smiled. "Well, looks can be deceiving."
    Brian looked back gingerly. "Nice place you've got here, ah, 'Doctor'," he
    said then, carefully.
    The Doctor regarded his guest thoughtfully. "Brian, I need your help," he
    declared suddenly, motioning him over vigorously.
    Brian looked at him in surprise, but crossed over to stand at his host's side.
    "I need you to watch that," the Doctor told him, pointing to a screen on
    which a line oscillated. "I need to know the instant the shape of that line changes,
    all right? It's very important."
    Brian nodded. "Sure - I'll keep an eye on it."
    Too busy to be scared, Brian Dempster stood, peering intently at the screen.
    It wasn't changing, and he soon grew restive. "So, how'd you meet Grace,
    anyhow?" he wondered aloud.
    Unseen by Brian, the Doctor smiled in triumph. "Oh! That's a long story!
    Well, if you insist.
    "It all started on New Year's Eve eve..."  
    The first thing Grace noticed as she awoke was that the surface she was lying
    on was stony, and cold.
    The next was that someone had just kicked her. Not that hard, just enough
    to get her attention. Still, she woke up angry, sitting quickly up from where
    she'd been curled, her back to a wall. Blinking in the dim lighting, she looked
    up at the figure bending over her.
    "Who," she said flatly, barely holding her temper in reign as she remembered
    where she was and how she had gotten there, "do you think you are?"
    He gazed down at her coldly. "I am the Master," he told her. And there was
    something in the way he said it; the assurance was utterly complete. From anyone
    else, such a line probably would have sounded idiotically presumptuous.
    Not from him.
    It was how he saw himself, she realized. It was _who_ he was.
    Still, that didn't mean _she_ had to buy into his reality.
    "Get up," he snapped.
    She hated the idea of being ordered around by _this_ - this alien bully with the
    over-sized ego, but if it meant getting out of this poor excuse for a room...
    She slowly got to her feet. "Walk," he ordered. Out the open door she went,
    then down the corridor. They were heading back to the Console Room, she
    guessed. A minute later, they turned a corner and were there.
    She looked at the central console speculatingly. Despite her earlier aversive
    experience, she found herself wondering if there were some way she could get
    to it to do some damage. Perhaps with a pair of gloves on?
    Or she could always throw something. She glanced around, looking for
    something suitable. As she turned her head to the left, she twitched back in
    surprise. The Master was right there, smirking at her.
    "Transparent," he said, contemptuously. She blinked, and he said, "Your
    thoughts, Doctor. A higly-trained 'professional' of your time..." His sardonic
    expression made it clear what he thought of what was considered 'professional'
    on Earth. "...and you're obviously wishing to inflict physical damage upon
    my TARDIS." He shook his head scornfully. "If you were capable of
    comprehending the reality of what a TARDIS truly is, you'd never have
    entertained the thought."
    She glared at him. "So, what is it then?" she asked, hoping for some useful
    information.
    He ignored her question, striding over to the console to flick a switch, then
    returning to Grace's side. "Let's go," he told her curtly.
    "If you think you can drag me in here and I'm going to just do everything
    you say," she snapped, moving quickly away, "then you've got another thing
    coming. Being bait isn't on my CV."
    She glanced at his face and eyes, automatically looking for the cues an ordinary
    person would have given off as to their next move, and-
    He was suddenly right there in front of her, yanking her close. Grabbing her
    by the shoulders, he glared directly into her terrified eyes.
    "No," he said suddenly, and she blinked, released. "I want you to _know_
    what is going on, Doctor." He smiled coldly at her. "As for being bait, I think
    you'll find you're...a natural."
    He dragged her to the TARDIS doors, which opened at a touch, as they stepped
    out onto what Grace knew instinctively was an alien landscape.
    It was probably the yellow sky.
    Well, all right - the humanoid blue beings strolling about were a dead giveaway.  
      
    To be continued...


	7. Part 7

**Reunion - Part 7**   
  
  
  

    
    Grace froze, staring around at the alien town of stone in which they now stood, andat the blue beings that were passing by all around them, going about their business.
    Somehow she'd assumed that wherever they were going was on Earth; she not
    even considered that they might be going to...
    "Oh my God..." she muttered, her face twisting in shock.
    "Doctor Holloway, I do hope you're not about to have a xenophobic breakdown
    on the spot." Grace blinked and realized that the Master was addressing her,
    apparently amused by her consternation. He leaned forward sternly. "We've
    only just arrived - surely you could have the courtesy to wait until the Doctor
    has been lured here?"
    She stared back at him, eyes wide and forehead strained.
    One of the natives was approaching them. The alien seemed to know the
    Master, from the unconcerned way in which it drew near.
    Grace stared. Slightly shorter than she was, the alien had no hair, but instead
    ridges, running over the top of the its skull. The nose was flatter and broader,
    with narrower nose holes, slits really, at the bottom. Slightly wider hips, fairly
    similar shoulders, legs and arms. The hands had one less finger. Its slightly
    larger ovoid eyes were wholly green; no white sclera could be seen. And of
    course it was blue, a light blue-gray, and wore a shift of darker blue that fell to
    just above its knobby knees.
    Now that she'd had a good look, she had to admit that the differences were
    not _that_ drastic. More like variations on a theme...
    She shook her head slightly. _I am looking at someone from another planet,_
    she told herself. _And he's looking back at me..._
    Well, okay; the Doctor and the Master were aliens. But here - now _this_
    was an _alien_.
    The Master had turned his attention to the Isconian. The blue humanoid flared
    its nose slits and put hands on hips slightly more protuberant than those of
    humans or Time Lords. "This is the 'Doctor' you spoke of?"
    The Master's eyes narrowed at the Isconian's lack of comprehension. "No,
    Baranac. I *told* you the Doctor is a *he*. This *she*," he told the native, as
    he shook Grace slightly in illustration, "is the reason the Doctor will come here,
    to the place of Rejoining."
    The Isconian eyed Grace noncommittally. "He. She. We get them mixed
    up," it shrugged. It stood to face Grace and bowed slightly. "Greetings,
    Offering." It then looked at the Master expectantly. "This 'Doctor' will come
    soon?"
    "Most likely," the Master told it. He turned to slant a look of malice at Grace,
    who was still staring at the blue humanoid in astonishment.
    Baranac nodded thoughtfully, the motion of his head a cross between a gesture
    of assent and a bow, as Grace, suddenly registering what her captors had said,
    turned her head to look at him sharply.
    The Master's grip on her arm tightened. "Come along, Grace."
    The three of them traveled down what appeared to be the main thoroughfare
    of the 'village'. Blue natives stopped to stare at them as they passed. Grace
    glanced up and around at the stone buildings, many of which had swirling
    patterns carved on them.
    They stopped before one small building, in front of which several of the natives
    were waiting. One opened the wooden door, and the Master pushed her roughly
    inside. As the door was shut, he turned to their guide.
    "She will be secure here? Well guarded?"
    The being looked back at the Time Lord with equanimity. "Yes," it replied.
    "Of course. As all Offerings are, in the Place of Waiting."
    The Master looked back at the Isconian narrowly for a few moments, then
    turned away.
    "See that she is," he recommended darkly, as he strode off.
    The small group of Isconians stood, watching him go. Baranac then glanced
    meaningfully at the guards.  
    In her new prison, Grace turned away from the door where she'd been straining
    to hear the exchange between the Master and the natives, and glanced around the
    room. Despite there being only one small window in the back, set high up near
    the ceiling which stretched a meter above her head, the room was not dark;
    half-globes of what looked like glass set into the walls glowed softly, lending
    a dim radiance to the room that was comforting.
    There was a lidded-pail with a hole in the top in the corner. And although it
    was not quite the height she would have expected...
    Grace felt amusement for the first time since she'd been dragged out of her
    own space and time. "I bet I can guess what *that* is," she declared gamely.
    Behind her, the door opened. She whirled, startled, then backed away.
    Several of the blue humanoids were standing in the doorway, staring at her.
    She sidled into the corner near the pail. They simply stood there, looking at
    her, then began to converse among themselves.
    Grace blinked. It was unintelligible to her. But she'd heard them speaking
    English just a few minutes before! They probably didn't want her to understand
    now, were speaking their own language.
    Two began to walk towards her. Glancing at the presumed waste bucket, the
    only object available to her as a weapon, she came to a quick decision. She
    *could* throw it at them, but it was unlikely to do much damage. And there
    were many more natives just outside. She had to admit that other than locking
    her up, they hadn't done anything bad to her yet...
    So she stood waiting for them. If they were going to take her outside, she'd
    have a better chance to escape.
    And go _where_?
    "What do you want?" she asked, hoping her voice wasn't quavering as much
    as it seemed to be.
    The two approaching stopped, and tilted their heads, as if puzzled. They
    looked at each other, then at her, and made more meaningless noises at her.
    She shook her head at them. "I-I don't understand," she told them.
    They stared back at her. Looked like the miscomprehension went both ways.
    Then again, she might be reading too much into it...
    She looked down fearfully as one of the natives began to lift his four-fingered
    hand. He raised it and extended it, as if asking for her hand.
    Well, she couldn't just stay in the corner forever. Grace Holloway slowly
    lifted her hand to meet the native's.
    The alien hand reached gently to encompass hers, and her eyes widened. For
    an instant, she felt awed. The next moment, though, she felt somewhat silly.
    The native's clasp felt, well...rather like a human's, or a Time Lord's - warm
    and dry.
    Grace repressed a momentary impulse to laugh nervously. What had she
    expected - for it to be slimy?
    The blue humanoid began to slowly back away, wordlessly inviting her to
    follow. She did.
    Her guide led her outside the stone building, then down the main thoroughfare,
    wide and bustling with more blue aliens. Grateful that no one had attacked
    her, and with no idea what to make of the fact that they had let her out of her
    prison, Grace went willingly enough.  
    They eventually came to a large, open space bounded by buildings. A 'village
    square'? Well, it certainly seemed to be fulfilling the same purpose; it was
    crowded with natives. Despite the light cast by the sun above, large glowing
    globes similar to those within her cell had been raised high on poles to further
    light the area.
    Her guide led her through a gap in the crowd to the middle of the square, as
    around them, the assembled villages murmured and seethed.
    He stopped, and releasing her hand, stepped slightly away from her and
    began to proclaim something in a voice which carried out across the gathered
    crowd, which listened avidly. The speaker discoursed for several minutes,
    then fell silent. He moved to stand to her left, as she glanced nervously
    about, hoping for a clue as to what was going to happen next. The natives
    were forming an orderly line, the front of which was beginning to approach.
    She blinked. It was almost as if she and the native next to her, probably
    somebody important here, were a 'receiving line'...
    And sure enough, as the first natives drew near, they approached with respect
    (if bowing and quiet murmuring meant the same thing here as on Earth). Still
    others gazed searchingly into her eyes. What was unsettling was the fact that
    they seemed to be in awe of _her_.
    Then one reached forward to touch her. She flinched instinctively, then
    stopped herself as the blue humanoid in front of her reached up to lightly
    touch the side of her face wonderingly.
    Grace realized that she was starting to interpret the humanoids' actions as
    if they were humans'; she couldn't help it. If those weren't reactions of
    awe and wonder and respect, then they were darned similar. Or else she
    was totally off base, and this was how they expressed hate, or something.
    Were they in awe of her because she was an alien to them, and this their
    'show-and-tell?'
    All the while, the line wound slowly by, quiet except for the brief murmured
    phrases of the...she couldn't help but think of them as 'devotees'. Perhaps
    it was a religious ceremony. But then why was *she* in it?
    It seemed to take quite a while for the whole line of beings to pass by them.
    Bemused, Grace stood patiently, suffering the looks and touches of native after
    native. It might be the entire population of this place, for all she knew. She
    found it difficult to discern any real differences between them; they all looked
    identical to her. It was probably due to the fact that they had no hair and all
    wore the same kind of simple blue garment...
    Finally, the line wound down to a few stragglers, then came to an end.
    Grace blinked and found herself yawning. Her native 'guide' looked quickly
    at her, in surprise and not a little consternation.
    She quickly shut her mouth. "What?" she asked automatically, defensively.
    The native peered at her questioningly, and she suddenly guessed what had
    surprised him so.
    "What," she said, amused for the second time that day. "You don't have
    yawns here?"
    She deliberately faked a yawn, testing her hypothesis, and he stared hard at
    her again.
    She couldn't help it - she laughed.
    All the lingering natives gaped, obviously astonished. When she did nothing
    else immediately shocking, they began to converse animatedly among themselves.
    Amazing. Something as simple as a laugh - or a yawn. Now that she thought
    about it, Grace realized she'd seen none of the natives here do either. Perhaps
    they simply _couldn't._
    Still, many of their actions seemed similar to the way humans behaved, and
    Grace found that she felt somewhat relieved. These aliens had certainly, except
    for locking her up for a short time, treated her better than the Master had.
    They'd simply looked at her, and had even seemed impressed. But then why
    had they done what the Master had told them to?
    "Oh, I wish you would talk to me, like you did before!" she exclaimed
    suddenly. "I need to know why you're doing this!"
    The natives merely looked at her in seeming incomprehension.  
    Brian Dempster stood, watching an oscillating line on one of the TARDIS
    console monitors, his mind awhirl. The Doctor had just finished the tale of
    his and Grace's misadventures of New Year's Eve, just a few weeks before.
    "She...'killed' you?" Brian muttered to himself. "Whoa," he murmured,
    shaking his head slightly. "Sure hope you guys don't have lawyers like we
    do here..."
    Despite Brian's soft tone, the Doctor, adjusting yet another dial on the console,
    heard him. "Oh, no. They're *much* worse where I come from."
    Brian looked up in surprise. Half the time he couldn't tell if this guy was being
    serious or not.
    "But that's neither here nor there," the Doctor continued, looking at Brian
    frankly. "I would have regenerated sooner or later, anyway. In the end, I
    suppose no one is really to blame." He looked back to his task.
    "And the change was overdue," Brian thought he heard his host say then,
    softly.
    "So this 'Master' fell into your 'Eye', but wasn't killed..."
    "Yes; I'm afraid he is the living embodiment of 'Go not gently into that good
    night'..."
    "And he's got Grace." Brian considered that. "If this guy is so bad... Where
    you come from, don't you have some kind of police or something, to catch guys
    ike him?" He brightened, inspired. "Is that what you are? Some kind of detective?"
    The Doctor smiled gingerly. "Ah, no. As for my people...they have what I
    guess you would call a 'non-interference' policy toward the outside world.
    Unless a threat hits close to home, they simply don't seem to care." He shook
    his head ruefully. "They've stood idly by before while the Master and others
    have threatened whole planets, systems, even the very fabric of the universe.
    Even if they knew of Grace's predicament, they'd not lift a hand to help
    her. And anyway, this is between him and me. As always." He looked bitter.
    "So, what can _we_ do?"
    The Doctor brightened somewhat and straightening up, raised a finger
    pedantically. "That's a very good question. I generally prefer to out-think,
    out-flank, and out-wit him." He paused and shrugged. "When that doesn't
    quite work, there's always luck."
    Brian stared at him. "Luck?" he echoed incredulously.
    "Works for me."
    Brian closed his eyes momentarily. "Oh, geez..." He opened them again.
    "But you have a plan, right?"
    The Doctor considered the plaintive tone of the man standing across the console
    from him. "Well, that will depend upon where the Master is headed," he told Brian.
    Brian looked perturbed. "So, he's leading you on a wild goose chase - you
    don't even know where he's going, yet!" Suddenly paying attention to the monitor
    he was supposed to be watching, he exclaimed, "Doctor! That line changed - it's
    flat."
    "That means the TARDIS we've been following has dropped out of the Vortex.
    Let's see where they've ended up." The Doctor stepped around to peer at one
    the monitors suspended overhead.
    Curious, Brian joined him, staring up at the screen. It read: Isconia. Local
    Dateline 1125.46.
    "Hmmm..." the Doctor commented, looking concerned.
    "What?" Brian asked.
    Still staring at the monitor, the Doctor shook an index finger. "Something
    about that place...What _was_ it?" He walked over to one section of the
    wooden console, moved several controls, and was rewarded with a sudden
    scrolling paper print-out. Tearing it free, he let it unroll and quickly perused it.
    "Oh, dear..."
    "What?!" Brian demanded.
    "Eh? Oh, it's just that the natives of this planet are, well... pre-contact,
    *blue*, hairless, and have only one gender. We're not exactly going to be
    able to just stroll about unnoticed."
    Brian stared. "Blue, huh?" he ventured, finally.
    "Blue-gray, actually," the Doctor replied absently, his mind already absorbed
    ith the ramifications of their destination.
    "So not everybody out here looks like you?"
    The Doctor, realizing he was still being addressed, looked up. "What? Oh,
    absolutely not. Life comes in every form you can imagine -- and then some.
    Some of it you doubtlessly wouldn't even recognize as being alive. Until it
    was too late."
    Brian looked momentarily unnerved, then tried to be nonchalant. "Okay.
    so now what?"
    "Oh, we go in, anyway."
    "Well, shouldn't we wait? If we don't show up, maybe he'll leave and go
    to a place where we can blend in more easily," Brian suggested, reasonably.
    "Perhaps," the Doctor replied, equally reasonably. "And he may also just
    do away with Grace if he thinks his attempt to get me to follow failed."
    Brian glanced away, discomforted, then back at the Time Lord. "But it's
    such an obvious trap! What good does it do to just walk right in?"
    The Doctor's expression softened slightly. "This is a dangerous situation,
    Brian, but it's not hopeless. Knowledge of the place to which we are going
    will help us. Also," and here he pointed at his guest, "*you* are our
    advantage - the Master does not know that you are helping me."
    Brian smiled gingerly. "So...I'll be your 'ace up the sleeve', huh?"
    The Doctor gazed at him, but it was as if he was looking through him,
    Brian noted, looking at something very far away... The Time Lord shook
    his head slightly, a shake not of negation but of distraction, a faint smile
    on his lips. "I suppose you _could_ put it that way. But in the end, there's
    only one Ace," he concluded, cryptically.
    "Riiight," Brian said, cautiously. "Well, what about this...'Isconia'?"
    The Doctor turned to the console and requested another print-out, which he
    handed to a bemused Brian. "Come on," the Doctor said, heading for his
    favorite chair. "Got to do our 'homework' before we land, and we haven't
    much time."  
    "Where are we going now?"
    The strange ritual in the square had now ended, and Grace's blue-gray native
    escort was once again leading her back along the main thoroughfare.
    The native glanced back at her as she spoke, but showed no comprehension.
    She was really starting to believe that they *didn't* understand what she was
    saying, which was doubly odd, given that they had spoken English to her earlier,
    when she'd first arrived with the Master.
    She shook her head a little. Strange. Perhaps she was talking too fast, or
    something. She was about to try again, when she realized that they were heading
    back the way they'd come earlier. Yes, there was the stone building, probably
    the local jail, that she'd been put in. Several 'guards' were loitering about outside,
    and expectantly opened the door as they saw Grace and her escort approaching.
    Grace stopped. Her guide turned to stare at her and tugged on her hand.
    She yanked her hand out of his grasp and backed up a step, her fear re-surfacing
    and transmuting into anger. "No!" she exclaimed. "I'm _not_ going to just walk
    back in there!" She cat-footed away several steps and glanced around at her
    surroundings, looking for an avenue of escape.
    Her 'guide' suddenly called out something in the strange, lilting tongue of the
    place, and Grace looked wildly around as a throng of interested villagers
    immediately streamed towards her. She turned fearfully, trying to keep an
    eye on the encircling natives, expecting an attack from whatever direction she
    was not looking in. They'd obeyed what her guide had shouted instantly,
    she noted, shaken. He _was_ someone of importance here.
    Her guide shouted something else, and they began to close in on her.  
      
    To be continued...


	8. Part 8

**Reunion - Part 8**   
  
  
  

    
    "_That's_ the plan?! 'Sneak in, distract the natives and the Master, and rescue Grace'?!"
    The Doctor looked at his incredulous guest calmly. "You have a better idea?"
    Brian shook his head spasmodically. "No, I mean of _course_ that's what
    we've got to do! But I was expecting maybe a little more _detail_?"
    The Doctor merely looked back at him.
    "Like exactly how we can go about doing this," Brian prompted, a little
    desperately.
    The Doctor stirred slightly. "Oh, well, the fine details will have to be worked
    out when we've arrived and seen exactly what we're up against." He rattled
    his copy of the print-out. "The TARDIS data banks are excellent for getting
    an overview of a thousand worlds, but no data storage system can convey all
    the nuances we'll need to know in order to put a strategy into effect, without
    on-site research."
    Brian blinked. "It sounds as if after reading all this," he replied, waving his
    own print-out, "that you're basically saying that we're just going to...'wing-it',"
    he faltered.
    "I prefer to put it as 'to think on our feet..." the Doctor corrected him, smiling.
    Brian opened and then shut his mouth. He was not used to 'winging-it'. He
    was used to lists, and schedules, and daily planners. And now here was this
    alien guy sitting in front of him, frenetic mop-top of hair straggling out in all
    directions, about to jump right into an obvious trap. Brian felt a sudden surge
    of righteous indignation on Grace's behalf. Grace had helped this guy, and _this_
    was how he repaid her? He was going to get them all _killed_!
    The Doctor looked at the slightly twisted expression on Brian's face. "Brian,"
    he quietly told the anxious man sitting opposite him, "Believe me when I say I
    have been in situations like this many times before and managed to find a way
    out of them."
    Brian looked back at him, slumping a little.
    "I'm glad you agreed to help," the Doctor continued earnestly, "especially after
    you and Grace, what is it called, 'broke up'-"
    "That's not the point!" Brian interrupted, annoyed, suddenly sitting up straight.
    "The point is how to get her out of this, and-"
    The Doctor, pleased by what he'd heard, smiled encouragingly. "And we
    _will_. Trust me."
    Brian looked back at him, still doubtful. "You've really done this sort of thing
    before?"
    "More times than even _I_ care to admit."
    Brian relaxed a little, intrigued. "So you're an expert in rescuing people?"
    The Doctor shrugged. "Years of experience. You learn things eventually."
    Brian got to his feet, restless. "Well, what are we waiting for?"
    The Doctor smiled. "Exactly what I was about to say!" he said, getting up
    and hurrying over to the Console to activate the rematerialization contols.
    "We are landing..._now_."  
    Grace shut her eyes fatalistically. Several hands gripped her gently, and she
    flinched, taking a deep breath, what she half-assumed to be her last-
    The hands took firm but gentle hold of her, and suddenly _lifted_-
    Her eyes flew open, and she stared upwards in shock. She was in the air, she
    was being lifted _up_-
    She yelped and instinctively began to flail, then decided abruptly that was
    the last thing she should do. She was being carried.
    All around her, the crowd surged and murmured happily, as the entire group
    started off down the street, Grace's guide at the front, leading the way back toward
    her prison.
    "Hey!" she exclaimed. "What're you doing--? Put me _down_!"
    They ignored her.
    Grace slumped. This was ridiculous. No one would listen to her, and what
    they were doing made no sense to her at all. First she thought they were going
    to kill her, then they ended up carrying her around...
    They arrived back at the little stone building. The native who had carried her
    halted and several others pulled her down, but all with the utmost deference and
    good humor. They seemed to be in quite a cheerful mood. The whole crowd then
    moved towards the open door of the jail, and Grace found herself gently but
    inexorably pushed within.
    She turned around to look back at her honor guard where it stood just outside
    the door, and stared, shaking her head in puzzlement. "Why are you _doing_
    this?" she asked. She wasn't very surprised when she got no answer. They
    nodded and murmured happily, and she saw her guide turn to address the mob
    momentarily, which then began to drift away.
    The door creaked shut.
    Grace turned away, wincing in frustration. She put her head in her hands for
    a few moments, then looked up again and approached the door.
    The two guards outside turned, startled, as a vigorous thumping came from
    within.
    Grace stopped kicking as the door creaked open. The two blue humanoid
    guards stood in the doorway, peering uncertainly at her.
    She stepped forward. "Look, talk to me. Just...tell me what's going on.
    Please."
    The guards looked at each other, then back at her. One opened his mouth
    and said something in his incomprehensible language.
    Grace winced, shaking her head spasmodically. "I know you can talk to
    me - you did it earlier! _Talk to me_!"
    Startled, the guards backed away and started to shut the door.
    "No, wait! I'm sorry!" She hurried forward, then stopped in
    dismay as the door abruptly re-opened to reveal the Master and Baranac on the
    threshhold. She rapidly backed up.
    "We were passing by, and we noticed that there seemed to be a problem
    here," the renegade commented, mildly.
    "Is all not to your liking, in the place of waiting, Offering?" Baranac asked,
    concerned.
    Grace glared. Finally, someone was talking to her again. And making
    cruel sport of her.
    "No, this is _not_ to my liking," she spat. "Why don't you let me out
    again? That'd be a good start!"
    The Master, smirking at Grace's impotent fury, frowned suddenly. "You
    let her out? I _told_ you to keep a careful watch over her. If she escapes we
    might lose the other part of the Offering. The Rejoining will not work properly
    without that other part!"
    Baranac did not seem overly concerned by the Master's irritation. "The
    Presentation had to be performed, as is the custom. All Offerings must stand
    before the people, so that they may be revered."
    "Baranac, why wouldn't you talk to me before?" Grace interrupted, keeping
    a wary eye on the Master.
    "I don't understand, Offering. I have been trying to talk to you; it's _you_
    who have been testing _us_ with your refusal to speak so that we can understand."
    Grace stared, dumbfounded. "But _I_ couldn't understand _you_! And why
    can we understand each other _now_, but not before?"
    "Don't listen to her," the renegade Time Lord interrupted impatiently. "She
    wastes your time."
    Baranac looked at the Master implacably. "When an Offering speaks, we listen."
    "She's only trying to confuse you."
    To his annoyance, Baranac merely nodded. "You told me that these Offerings
    would 'Test' us, that our faith must be strong enough to see through the
    deception. It was our duty to listen." He turned back to Grace. "Now I
    will listen to _you_, Offering."
    "Wait - I'm an 'offering'? For _what_?"
    "To Shamileth, the god-who-sleeps, Offering."
    Grace closed her eyes. "I don't believe it. You're going to _sacrifice_ me?"
    She opened her eyes again and pointed to the Master. "Did _he_ tell you to do
    this?"
    "We know you are all a part of Shamithel, Offering. You and the other who
    shall come are incomplete, are due to be returned from whence you came, to
    be Rejoined."
    "This is crazy, this is _insane_. We're not even from your world, how can
    we be-"
    Now that she'd begun to find out what was going on, she wished she hadn't
    asked. Apparently, the Master thought the Doctor would come here and become
    an 'offering', too. They probably sacrificed any strangers to their bizarre alien
    god...
    She looked up again, and, stung by the Master's subtle expression of
    satisfaction, exclaimed, "Wait a minute! How about _him_? He's like me - why
    do _I_ have to get 'rejoined', but not him?"
    Baranac glanced calmly from her to the Master and back again. "It is not his
    time yet."
    "'Not his ti- Oh, I suppose he told you that, and you just believed him.
    That is _so_-" Grace began, her voice low and infuriated.
    "Unfair? I know, Grace," the Master sighed, as she glared at him in disgust.
    "But life isn't always fair. Some of us get to return to Shamileth sooner than
    others." He moved closer and lowered his voice. "I was here first, Doctor
    Holloway," the Master told her softly, smiling sinisterly. "And as you already
    know, I can be very convincing at times."
    Grace could have sworn his eyes gleamed slightly. She took an involuntary
    step backwards as the Master turned and swept out of the room. Baranac
    bowed slightly and followed, closing the door behind him.
    She slumped despairingly back against the wall and buried her head in her
    hands.  
    "This 'Doctor' will be here soon?" Baranac inquired politely as they walked
    along.
    "Yes. As I told you," the Master replied, not bothering to hide his impatience,
    not that the Isconian seemed to notice or care.
    The renegade swung around suddenly. "Shamileth will _not_ awaken without
    the Doctor being Rejoined to it, Baranac. He glared at the Isconian leader,
    the ever-reborn Prophet. "Understand that."
    Baranac nodded placidly. "We understand. All will be as Shamileth wills it.
    We shall do what needs to be done."
    The Master looked narrowly at the leader, then relaxed, mollified. Once he'd
    gotten to Baranac and planted the modifications to the ancient ritual, the Isconians
    had been acceptably compliant, though Baranac himself showed occasional
    unusual flashes of stubborness.
    No matter; not every species susceptible to his hypnotic powers reacted in
    precisely the same way. The Isconians craved their 'god's' awakening with
    the fierce devotion of primitive cultures everywhere; they would do whatever
    their Prophet told them.
    And their Prophet would do _his_ bidding.
    "Be ready, Baranac," the Master warned the Isconian again. "The Doctor
    _will_ test you well."
    Baranac nodded. "We will be prepared."
    The Master stood, watching him go. Such simple faith, such singleness
    of purpose. All tailor-made, really, for him to use.
    The Doctor was in for quite a surprise.  
    Grace stood underneath the window in her jail, considering. It wasn't that high
    up. She reached up , then winced in pain as her strained shoulder
    complained.
    Damn, damn, damn...If only her shoulder hadn't been twisted... Sighing,
    she glanced despondantly around the room and cursed again, but for a different
    reason.
    A minute later, the waste bucket had been hauled over underneath the open
    window in the wall opposite the door, turned upside down, and Grace was
    balanced precariously on top, muttering.
    The bucket raised her almost up to the level of the window. She peered through
    the opening; she could see the blue-green vegetation behind the stone buildings
    immediately abutting her jail. Shifting her weight to her left foot, she placed her
    right against the stone of the wall, and reached forward. She tested the feel of
    things, then reached forward, grabbed the edge of the window. It hurt, but she
    could use her shoulder. Pulling herself up, she strained, then slumped in
    momentary despair. She didn't have the upper arm strength, she couldn't--
    Stop. Forget the doomsaying. She _had_ to do this.
    Grace got off the bucket and rested for a few minutes. Then she grimly
    resumed her post and stood, staring at her goal. She closed her eyes,
    visualizing getting up and into the window, getting out. She took a few
    moments to ready herself for particularly intense procedures in the hospital;
    so why not now?
    She reached up, grabbed the edge of the stone sill, then stood on the balls
    of her feet, bounced a few times, took a deep breath, then jumped.
    Grabbing at the window ledge as her momentum allowed her to get a better
    grip, Grace scrambled desperately upwards. It wasn't that far, just a meter
    or two. Her shoulder complained loudly, but she ignored it. Her bare feet
    found a purchase on the stone wall - if she'd had shoes, she might not have
    been able to get a grip She ground her teeth in a rictus of effort, pushed against
    the wall's surface, then pulled at the window's edge.
    Gasping with effort, she desperately threw her elbow over the sill, flopping
    forward and swinging one leg up onto the edge. Gritting her teeth against the
    ache of her injured shoulder, she followed through with the other leg, and
    straddled the sill.
    Grace sat like that for some time, eyes closed, waiting for her pulse to stop
    racing. She was trembling with the effort she'd just made, and her shoulder
    ached sharply, but she'd done it.
    Then she turned her attention to how she'd get down.
    Good thing she didn't have that far to jump - as it was, she landed with a
    painful _oomph_, and fell sprawling, jarring her shoulder yet again. She lay
    for a moment, blinking rapidly at the momentary wave of pain, then got
    unsteadily to her feet and hurried off.  
      
    To be continued...

  
  



	9. Part 9

**Reunion - Part 9**   
  
  
  

    
    Grace glanced around wildly. Pure adrenaline had gotten her away from the center oftown; fortunately no one seemed to have noticed yet that she had
    escaped. She was now crouched, panting, behind a stone barn.
    Well, she assumed it was a barn; the door was wide open. When she'd peered
    inside, considering it as a possible hiding place, the smell from within, combined
    with a strange snuffling noise, had caused her to change her mind. Fortunately,
    whatever was in there hadn't come out.
    She abruptly slumped against a wall, leaning forward slightly, her hands on
    her knees. Trapped on an alien planet, every blue humanoid's hand turned
    against her...
    And at the moment her only ride home was an alien sociopath.
    The Master had talked as though he was certain that the Doctor would
    come here.
    _He had better_, she thought grimly.
    Grace straightened up with sudden resolution. She'd remain near the center
    of the village and see if the Doctor showed up soon. Perhaps he'd see a ride
    home as fair trade for being warned about this ambush...
    She shook her head ruefully at her own facetiousness.  
    For the second time that day, a time capsule noisily exited the Vortex and deposited
    itself upon the surface of Isconia.
    The door opened slightly, and a tousle-haired figure peered out.
    "Coast's clear," he said as he stepped all the way out. "Come on."
    A few moments later, another figure stepped slowly out of the police box.
    "Oh, wow..." Brian Dempster said, stopping and staring in astonishment. "The
    colors are..._different_."
    "Really? I've been to so many planets, I guess I've gotten so I don't really notice
    color schemes that much, unless they're radically different." He looked peremptorily
    about him. "This falls somewhere in the middle of the range of 'Earth-like' planets."
    Brian's head swiveled around to stare at his companion. "Really?"
    The Doctor smiled reassuringly. "Really."
    That bit of perspective seemed to help, as well as serving as a reminder that his
    companion was an experienced traveler, so Brian took a deep breath, and asked:
    "Any idea where we'll find Grace, then?"
    The Doctor pointed. "At a guess, I'd hazard...that settlement over there."
    Brian looked in the direction he was pointing, and saw a cluster of stone buildings
    nestled in a valley under a craggy hill.
    They resolutely set off over the countryside.  
    Brian lay on his stomach and stared down the hillside at the blue-gray beings
    moving about the village of stone that lay below. He felt he could have just lain
    there and watched them all day, but sensed that there was no time for that.
    Blue people on another planet... He'd caught the occasional science fiction
    movie that had been shown in the theaters, but had never in a million years
    thought he'd see something in real life similar to what he'd seen on the big
    screen.
    His companion watched his reactions carefully. There was not enough time
    to allow Brian to properly acclimate as he'd have preferred, but these were not
    normal circumstances. Fortunately, he seemed to be coping surprisingly well
    now, especially considering the way he'd earlier denied what was happening
    to him.
    "Only one gender..." Brian found himself wondering. "Then how do they..."
    "They're hermaphrodites; they've got all the 'equipment' necessary. They can
    impregnate themselves, or exchange reproductive material with others in order to
    increase their genetic diversity. That's why they all look alike -- there was much
    less need for them to evolve obvious sexual dimorphism."
    Brian turned and looked at the Doctor, brows raised. "Un-hunh..." he said,
    gingerly. "Then how do they decide who does what-" He paused. "On second
    thought - I probably _don't_ want to know."
    "When given the choice, always take the one which offers the more knowledge,
    Mr. Dempster."
    "Okaaay. Then how....?"
    "Oh. Well, actually, no one's quite figured that one out, yet. At least it isn't
    in the TARDIS Data Banks," the Doctor admitted easily. "For now, it remains
    one of those Isconian mysteries. Only _they_ can tell the difference..."
    He was grinning as Brian shook his head in sudden amusement.
    Dusk was falling, turning the yellow sky gradually gray. "Time for us to go,"
    the Doctor told Brian quietly, who looked sharply at him and nodded. Getting
    up, they passed swiftly down the slope and began to creep carefully past the
    out-lying buildings. No one seemed to be about, Brian noted with relief. It
    was the dinner hour, which the Doctor had told him the Isconians kept with an
    almost religious fervor.
    "So, how will we know which building Grace is in?" Brian muttered to his
    Time Lord companion.
    "Easy," the Doctor muttered back. "The building with guards in front of it."
    "Oh. Right." Silly; he should of thought of that.
    Brian had an adrenaline buzz, half-expecting somebody to leap out at them at
    any moment. The smell of something edible wafted through the air. Somewhere
    nearby, the natives were sitting down to some type of food...
    Brian suppressed a bizarre impulse. If he peeked in through one of the open
    windows through which shone a dim yellow glow, would he see a family of
    blue people gathered around the dinner table? Part of him wanted to just throw
    open a door and walk in going, "Hi, I'm from another planet! What do you think
    of that?"
    Probably give them the local version of a heart attack. If they had hearts.
    "Quickly, now," the Doctor reminded him tersely, banishing Brian's momentary
    wool-gathering. They slipped around a few more corners and down a few more
    streets, drawing closer to the center of the village. Ahead of him, the Doctor peeked
    around a corner, then motioned with a hand to halt.
    Brian drew cautiously closer to his guide and was invited to take a look around the
    corner. His quick glance revealed to him a stone building in front of which several
    blue humanoids were loitering.
    "So," the Doctor murmured, sotto voce. "Central location, not much cover. Good
    for them, not so good for us." He turned his head to peer at his companion. "We
    are going to need a distraction."
    Brian considered. "Do you have anything that would explode, a bomb or something?"
    he suggested hopefully.
    The Doctor looked at him narrowly. "What _is_ it with you humans and explosives?"
    he muttered.
    "Well, look, I'm just trying to help," Brian retorted, annoyed.
    "I know. It's just that I've had my fill for awhile of things that go _boom_," the
    Doctor replied, risking another peek around the corner. He looked back at Brian.
    "I'll draw the guards away, distract them. They're presumably expecting someone
    to show up looking for Grace, but not necessarily two people. You should be able
    to sneak up and get her out." He paused as Brian opened his mouth, looking
    perturbed. "When you do, you both head right back to the TARDIS."
    Brian fingered the spare key hanging on a string around his neck. "And you'll be
    doing what?"
    "As I said, distracting them."
    "And if this Master guy shows up?"
    The Doctor smiled slightly. "Distracting him, too."
    Brian shook his head. "You're crazy. The only reason I'm going along with
    this is that you seem to have done this sort of thing before..."
    "Believe me; I have. When you two get back to the TARDIS, my link with
    her ill let me know. I'll meet you two back there."
    Brian looked at him doubtfully. "And if something goes wrong?" he asked
    quietly.
    The Doctor looked solemnly back at him, hearing the unspoken words. "You
    remember those several controls on the Console that I showed you how to
    operate?" Brian nodded. "I've pre-set the coordinates. All you would have
    to do is to move those controls, and the TARDIS would automatically return
    you to San Francisco a short time after we left."
    Brian stirred uneasily. "Well...you be careful, all right? We'll see you back
    there."
    The Doctor grinned, and clapped Brian encouragingly on the shoulder. "Just
    get Grace out. That's the most important thing."
    The Time Lord slipped away, blending into the twilight shadows.
    Brian stood, his heart hammering, waiting for all hell to break loose.
    For several minutes he heard and saw nothing, then--
    The three guards standing around in front of the stone building suddenly snapped
    into alertness, swiveling around to stare down the boulevard.
    Brian peered out, squinting at the figure who was strolling quite unconcernedly
    down the street, hands in frock-coat pockets. It was the Doctor.
    The incongruous figure stopped in the glow-globe-lit street and stood, an
    appreciable distance away from the stone 'jail', but within easy viewing distance
    of the guards.
    "Hello," he called out in a clear voice. "I am the Doctor, and I've come for
    my friend."
    The three humanoids glanced at each other, then began to walk towards the
    Doctor. He started to slowly back up.
    It was a bizarre sight, Brian noted, as he crept closer to the suddenly unguarded
    building. All four moved along the street, the Doctor slowly retreating, luring
    the pursuing Isconians away from the building.
    "Greetings, Offering," one of the guards said. The Doctor's eyebrows lifted
    slightly at the word 'offering'. "You honor us with your presence. We will
    escort you to the Place of Waiting, as preparations are completed for the
    Rejoining."
    "I see. 'Rejoined' with whom or what?"
    "To Shamithel, the god-who-sleeps, Offering."
    "And will that awaken Shamithel?" the Doctor inquired politely.
    The guard's answer had the ring of a memorized litany. "Only when all
    parts of Shamithel are returned to it will Shamithel return to us, Offering.
    Long ago, Shamithel was scattered across the whole world, and beneath,
    and above. Now, all parts seek to return, to be whole once again. For each
    piece, a time to return, to be Rejoined. The task of the Faithful is to assist,
    to aid the Reunion." He paused, then continued. "To help those fragments
    which have forgotten from whence they came. All must be returned."
    "How do you know it's _really_ my time to be 'rejoined' to this Shamithel?"
    the Doctor asked conspiratively, as he continued to back up. "In fact, how
    do you know I'm a part of Shamithel at all?"
    The Isconian answering him looked at him calmly. "Such as you are, what
    else could you be?" he replied, gesturing at the bizarre figure before him.
    "Split into 'hes' and 'shes', mere fragments of the original essence of you.
    We were told earlier of the form these bits of you would take, how we would
    be honored by your arrival, be able to aid you in your Rejoining."
    "Whether we fragments want to or not," the Doctor sighed. As clever
    a use of a religious creed to serve one being's needs as he'd ever seen. It
    was at times like these when he could almost admire the Master's cunning,
    were it not for the invariably nefarious ends to which it was put.
    A neat trap. Any protestations from him or any other hapless being decreed
    to be a lost part of their god would presumably be ignored by the Isconians
    in favor of bringing the day when their deity would return to them one day
    closer.
    The Doctor glanced at the building which every step was taking him further
    away from. Hopefully he was giving Brian enough time to reach it undetected
    and free Grace. She had, he reflected, better be in there. Was that a shadowy
    figure he saw moving, drawing close to the entrance?
    The Isconian who had spoken to him hesitated, starting to look back as if
    suddenly suspicious.
    "Well!" the Doctor exclaimed. The spokesman's head instantly whipped
    back around to stare at him. "I'm afraid we have a conflict of interests here.
    I don't want to return to Shamileth right now." He shrugged. "Sorry."
    The spokes-Isconian bowed slightly. "You test us well, Offering. As
    the 'she' Offering does. Our faith will not falter."
    It was barely enough warning. The speaker made a subtle gesture with
    his hands, and the other two guards leapt forward, arms outstretched to
    grab the 'he' before them. The Time Lord jumped back, barely avoiding
    their lunge, whirled, and fled.
    The two guards were close behind. The speaker threw his head back and
    called out in a loud clear voice.
    "My people, arise! The Offering called the 'Doctor' tests us! It is
    somewhere among us. Leave your homes, look without. Find the Offering,
    and return it here to me!"
    The doors to the dwellings lining the main street opened, their inhabitants
    obediently emerging to join in the search.  
    To be continued...


	10. Part 10

**Reunion - Part 10**   
  
  
  

    
    Brian dashed to the little stone building and grabbed the handle of the wooden door."_Grace_!" he hissed, as he first yanked futily at the handle, then realized a moment later
    that it opened inwards and pushed.
    It wasn't locked. It was heavy, though, and it took a few moments to push it all the
    way open. He peeked cautiously within. "Grace, are you in there?"
    He blinked. Nothing. It was empty. Just a small room, a window in the far wall,
    and some bucket lying on its side up against the wall under the window.
    With a curse, he whirled. They'd picked the wrong building. Or else Grace and
    this Master guy weren't even here--
    He stepped back outside and into the street, and froze, staring in shock at the
    frenzied scene before him. The street was swarming with Isconians, who were
    emerging from their homes, efficiently forming into orderly parties, and hurrying
    off into the maze of town streets around them. There was no sign of the Doctor.
    Brian stared. "Causing a distraction," he murmured faintly, as dozens of heads
    turned his way. He stood, astonished, as a small crowd of blue humanoids eagerly
    approached him.
    He then stepped quickly back, horrified. Oh God oh God -- it was all going unreal
    again. This couldn't really be happening, could it? He turned quickly, wondering if
    he should run, but found himself already surrounded.
    "Greetings!" one of the beings exclaimed. "Are you the Offering known as 'Doctor'?
    Brian whirled, pale, and gaped at the speaker for a few moments. "I... No, I'm..."
    Then he shook his head and swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm the Doctor. Yes, absolutely,"
    he continued, nodding vigorously. Perhaps they'd call off the search now and give the
    Doctor the chance to find Grace, because it sure didn't look like _he_ was going
    anywhere. He glanced around uneasily as the blue natives stared at him with interest.
    "You honor us with your presence, Offering," one native told him, in a melodically
    fluting voice.
    "I...I _do_?" Brian glanced quickly around. Why, they seemed pleased to see him...
    Wait a minute-
    "'Offering'? What do you mean by 'offering'?" he asked suspiciously.
    "You are here because it is your time to be Rejoined to Shamileth, Offering," the
    native explained cheerfully.
    "Rejoined? What do you mean, 'rejoined'?!"
    "Come," the native said, smiling, as two more natives stepped forward and took hold
    of a gaping Brian's arms. "I am Fironec, and I will be honored to show you to the place
    of Waiting."
    Brian's face crumpled in distress. He was surrounded by these things, and they
    were _touching_ him-
    It was a nightmare - it had to be. Grace wasn't here, and the Doctor was gone, and
    now the creatures had got him-
    He balked. "Let go of me," he growled. "Let go of me, you-you _things_!"
    Fironec peered at Brian. "I don't understand," the native said curiously.
    Brian glared at him. "Let me _go_. You can't _do_ this!!"
    Fironec's head tilted. "Ah - you Test us, of course. As Baranac told us."
    And with they pulled him, heedless of his protests, back to the small stone building.
    Fironec stopped suddenly at the sight of the ajar door. A quick inspection revealed
    that the 'she' was gone. The Isconian bowed his head momentarily.
    "The 'she' has left the Place of Waiting. I will inform Baranac what has happened
    here."
    They shut Brian inside, and Fironec hurried off.  
    The 'she' in question peered out from where she was crouched warily in a dark
    alley-way. Hearing the outcry in the main street, she had been unable to resist the
    temptation to creep out to see what was happening.
    Not daring to venture too close, she hadn't been able to see very clearly, but it
    was obvious that the natives had caught somebody, and had just shut them in the
    very building she'd* been put in earlier.
    Her shoulders slumped. She was too late - it could only be the Doctor. As the
    Master had predicted, he'd come here, following them, and now he'd been caught.  
    Brian Dempster paced the floor of his cell, his fists clenching and unclenching. If
    this _were_ a nightmare, how much longer would it go on before it ended? Why
    couldn't he wake up?!
    He paused momentarily, struck by a sudden thought. Maybe when you were in
    the middle of dreams, they felt just like real life, and then it was only when you
    woke up that you forgot them, and they became unreal...
    Well, if that were so, then all he had to do was to hang on until he woke up. He
    went over to a wall and slumped down to sit, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. God,
    parts of it felt _real_. The dark blue-green leaves, the hazy yellow sky, the acrid
    smells drifting through the air, the clink of stones hitting the wall against which
    he was sitting...
    He opened his eyes. Stones, hitting a wall? He listened.
    Plink.
    Plink.
    Plink.
    He blinked. That was too regular. Someone nearby was deliberately making
    a noise. He got to his feet and stared at the window several meters above his head.
    A pebble abruptly sailed through the window and rebounded off his head.
    "Hey!" he yelped, rubbing at the sore spot.
    Another stone flew through, and he jumped out of the way.
    Was it his jailors, having some fun at his expense?
    "Doctor?" a woman's voice whispered hoarsely, outside the window. "Doctor,
    are you in there?"
    Yet another stone flew through.
    Brian ducked. "Hey!" he hissed back. "Stop with the stones already!"
    There was a brief silence. Then:
    "Who's in there?!"
    "Who are _you_?" he demanded in return.
    He thought he heard muffled muttering. He caught the last few words: "...must
    be losing it..." Then:
    "Look, I saw them put you in there! I'm going help you get out!"
    "Fine with me!" Brian hissed back, bemused. Getting rescued by a mysterious
    woman? Perhaps this dream was finally taking a turn for the better. God, it sounded
    like Grace. Well, that would fit in with the rest of the dream...
    "I'll be back in a few minutes!" the voice hissed.
    Brian slumped a little. Great. The way things were going, he was about to get
    stood up - now it was happening even in his dreams.
    He sat down again. It was with surprise a few minutes later that he realized that
    true to her word, his mysterious would-be rescuer had returned. Something hit
    the edge of the window with a _thsssp_ and slithered down inside.
    It was a blue green creeper, several inches thick. Brian looked at it, feeling a
    surge of hope. Even if this were just a dream, he didn't feel like just waiting
    around for it to end. He found himself smiling. What the heck; why not just go
    with the flow?. It was definitely time to do _something_...
    He took hold of the vine. It was surprisingly pliable, though not so much as
    a rope. Still, it would do... He pulled cautiously at it, and it held.
    "Have you tied it to something?" he called softly.
    "Yes. Now _shuush_! And climb!"
    Brian blinked. That _definitely_ sounded like Grace...
    Grabbing the vine, he tested the tension, then looked at the task ahead of him.
    Really, just a few meters to go to get to the window. Grasping the vine, he hauled
    himself up. A few overhand pulls later, and he had reached the window's edge
    and hooked his right foot on the edge of the sill. Using that for leverage, he drew
    up his other leg, and found himself perched precariously in the opening.
    Below, Grace stared up, gaping. Hard to see as it was in the relative darkness,
    there could be no doubt. It wasn't the Doctor she'd just rescued, but-
    "Brian!" What the _hell_ are you doing here?"
    He stared down at her. "Um...I've come to rescue you... Well, me and this
    guy who calls himself the 'Doctor'. Hope you don't mind." He wriggled around,
    took hold of the window ledge, then lowered himself down. He landed with an
    _oomph_, losing his balance and landing on his behind.
    When he looked up, Grace was standing over him, looking perturbed. "Mind?"
    _Mind_?! You _idiot_-" She quickly knealt down next to him and gave him a
    sudden, fierce hug. "My God, the last time I saw you, you were d-"
    "Was the other day, at the restaurant..."
    She shook her head. "Never mind."
    "This crazy alien Doctor guy kidnapped me and told me this other alien guy was
    out to get you," he said as he scrambled to his feet. "I'm still not quite sure what's
    going on, but-"
    Grace laughed a little shakily. "Yeah, sounds like you came here with the Doctor,
    all right. Where is he?"
    Brian got to his feet. "Off causing a distraction-"
    They both froze. Several hairless heads were peeking curiously around the edge
    of the prison building in front of them.
    "Oh, _no_," Brian groaned.
    He gamely let himself be pulled along by Grace as she beat a hasty adrenaline-fueled
    retreat.  
    To be continued...


	11. Part 11

**Reunion - Part 11**   
  
  
  

    
    Grace and Brian sprinted down an alley-way, trying to stay a few steps ahead of
    the Isconian mob that was howling after them.
    Well, all right; it wasn't exactly howling, more like occasionally calling out directions
    and explanations to new recruits in high, fluting voices as it pursued the two fugitives
    through an increasingly confusing maze of town streets.
    At least confusing to him, Brian reflected breathlessly, as he and Grace skidded to a
    halt. A door down the street had just swung open, disgorging two excited residents.
    Grace threw herself down another alley-way, dragging Brian with her.
    "They seem to be enjoying themselves," he gasped, as they ran.
    Grace shook her head, but didn't disagree. "Can't let them catch us!"
    "Got to get back to the TARDIS!" Brian rasped.
    Grace glanced back at him. "Where is it?"
    "In the woods above the town! Oh, God -- I think I'm lost!"
    "I _know_ I am!" she shot back. "We've got to lose this bunch!" she gasped,
    glancing back at the streets behind down which blue bodies were hurtling. Glancing
    around desperately, she motioned to what looked like a shed.
    Brian wanted to point out that they might well end up getting trapped, but in as dire
    need of a breather as she was, decided not to protest. They slipped in, eased the door
    closed, crouched back, and hoped for the best.
    Grace closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying to breathe quietly
    when what she wanted to do was to suck in great lungfuls of air. It was dim within
    the shed; next to her, she heard Brian similarly gasping.
    In the street outside, running feet were heard, and the two fugitives flinched. The
    patter of footfalls passed by and was gone.
    They slumped in relief.
    "You okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"
    Grace shook her head. "They just all looked at me. How about you?" she asked in
    return.
    "I'm fine, except for getting dragged around by this Doctor guy and thrown in a
    swimming pool. And locked up by these blue things. Why?"
    She broke eye contact. "Well...I remember how it was when *I* first met the
    Doctor. Pretty crazy."
    Brian leaned back, rubbing his face with his hands and smoothing back his hair.
    "I keep thinking it's some kind of nightmare, but then something happens to make me
    feel it's real. Right now, it feels _really_ real."
    "Brian?" Grace said quietly, glancing over at him.
    "Hmm?" he prompted.
    "Thanks for helping."
    He stirred a little. "Well, at least that's what I _meant_ to do," he said somewhat
    ruefully.
    "Oh, come on, Brian - you know what I mean. You were the last person I
    expected to see."
    He looked at her frankly, even a little irritatedly. "Grace, we drove each other
    crazy, but it's not as if I hate you, you know. If you'd asked for the sofa back,
    I'd have told you where to stick it. But how could I pass up the chance to help
    rescue a damsel in distress?"
    "Oh, for heaven's sake," Grace muttered, rolling her eyes.
    "And I've got to say, Grace," he told her, smiling and shaking his head," you
    make a _great_ damsel in distress..."
    "Ha-ha, Brian," she retorted, turning to glare at him. "Very funnmmmppphhh..."
    She should have, Grace reflected as Brian finally broke off the kiss and
    leaned back again, seen that one coming. Damn him anyway, for reminding her...
    For his part, Brian was starting to feel pretty smug. This crazy adventure/dream/whatever
    was definitely starting to improve. He'd muffed
    the rescue bit, but it was very fitting that Grace rescue _him_, after all the
    times she'd thrown him over. And not even for another guy - as far as he
    knew - but for _work_.
    He leaned forward again, reaching for her with a smile-
    Her reprimand was like a slap across the face. "Brian, what the _hell_ do you
    think you're doing?"
    He froze, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Too good to be true, too
    good to be true - the dream was twisting away, out of his control, sending him
    a smidgin of hope, just to snatch it away again.
    He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes in disappointment. "Okay;
    I give up. You wanna be a bad dream, fine. I have to wake up sometime..."
    Grace stared at Brian. "_What_ are you talking about?"
    He shook his head without opening his eyes. "Whatever bad's going to happen,
    just get it over with."
    Grace gawped. "You - are you saying you think this is all a _dream_?" she asked
    incredulously.
    He didn't even bother answering.
    The next instant, though, he twitched in surprise, his eyes flying open to stare
    at her as she suddenly grabbed hold of his hands.
    "Brian!" she said, "Look, I'm real. She squeezed his hands. "I'm here; I'm
    real. All this is _real_. It isn't a dream!"
    He merely stared at her, again trapped in denial. "Look, don't waste your time,"
    he told her. A hopeful look came over his face. "Maybe this means that I'll be
    waking up soon. For a while I thought it was real, but then I saw how strange
    it was; I saw through it again. The dream must be almost over." He smiled.
    Grace stared at him, then reached forward and grabbed his head with both her
    hands, wrenched it forward, and glared sternly at him.
    "Dammit, Brian, this is _real_!"
    He stared back at her, astonished. Then he twitched his head back, irritated.
    "Don't talk to me that way!" he snapped.
    "Well, if you _listened_ to me, then I wouldn't _have_ to!"
    He glared at her. "Oh, I _listen_ to you, all right - always telling me you've
    got something more important to do than be with _me_!"
    "Dammit, I'm a _Doctor_! You knew that when you first started going out with
    me!"
    "Yeah, well, if I'd known then what I know now, I wouldn't have! What was
    I, just a warm body to come home to, an arm to hang on when it was convenient
    for _you_?"
    Grace stared back at him, then twitched her head aside. "Brian, that's not fair!"
    She closed her own eyes and grimaced. "It wasn't like that - it was just-" She
    paused, and opened her eyes to look at him. "Brian, this is who I _am_. I'm a
    _doctor_."
    "For a while there I thought maybe you were seeing someone else. That was
    easier to think than that your work was always more fascinating than coming
    home...to me."
    They glared each other.
    "Well, if that's really the way you felt, then why did it work for as long as it
    did?" she snapped raggedly, looking away again.
    He didn't answer immediately, but let out a long sigh. When he finally spoke,
    he sounded incredibly weary.
    "Because I kept telling myself it was just a temporary situation, that next week,
    next month, things would calm down, you wouldn't be so busy. That you'd
    been exaggerating."
    She nodded smasmodically. "Yeah, well, you can see now I wasn't kidding."
    They looked at each other again in silence. "Grace," Brian sighed finally, "I just
    wanted to be with you. To be _with_ you."
    Grace looked back at him helplessly. She opened her mouth to speak-
    The next moment, their heads jerked around at the hesitant noise from the
    Isconian peering in through the slightly-ajar doorway.
    "Greetings," it said uncertainly. "You are the Offerings, yes?"
    They merely gaped at it.
    Taking this as assent, the native came several steps forward into the shed.
    "Why do you talk so mad?" it asked curiously, peering at their stricken expressions,
    half-lit in the slanting beam of the light thrown inside by a nearby street-globe.
    Grace closed her eyes in chagrin. "I don't believe it," she groaned. "We could
    have been getting away, and we get caught because we're too busy _arguing_..."
    "It's only one of them!" Brian exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. "We can take
    him!" He paused. "It."
    Grace quickly got to her feet to stand warily beside Brian. "Brian, don't you hurt
    him!"
    "It*. It's a hemaphrodite."
    Grace blinked. "Whatever. And anyway, I thought you'd decided this was all
    a dream."
    He looked at her, then turned his wary attention back to the Isconian. "Well..."
    he hedged.
    She poked him in a arm with a finger. "See? You're trying to convince yourself
    it's a dream, but inside you _know_ it's real!"
    He stared, perturbed. "How can it be? It's too strange!"
    "Strange? Of course it's strange! It's crazy, weird - you name it! But this is
    what we have to deal with!"
    He stared.
    "Look, Brian - it's just a planet of blue people. Just think 'Star Trek' or
    something."
    No response.
    "Didn't you like Star Wars when they re-released it in ninety-seven?"
    "But none of that was _real_!"
    "Yeah, well now it _is_!"
    He glared at her, then flung an arm spasmodically to point at the native.
    "Okay - fine, Ms. Know-it-all!" he shouted heatedly. "If you say it's real,
    then it's real! We're stuck on a freepin' alien planet with blue hemaphrodite
    people who want to sacrifice us to some dead god! You happy now?!"
    "Is not dead."
    "What?!" Brian exclaimed, his head swinging around to stare at the Isconian.
    "Shamileth sleeps. It is not 'dead'."
    "Oh, yeah? Well, I don't care if it's dead, sleeping, or doing..._whatever_
    it is you guys do to yourselves! I'm getting out of here, and you're not going
    to stop me! Come on, Grace!" He grabbed her hand and took a belligerent
    step forward.
    Grace closed her eyes momentarily, caught between embarrassment and an
    odd sense of elation. Trust Brian to go from near hysteria to alpha male in the
    space of a few moments. She wasn't sure whether to give him a hard rap on the
    head or burst out laughing.
    To their surprise, the Isconian stepped politely aside. "Of course," he told them.
    "As you wish."
    Brian looked at the native suspiciously. Grace tugged on his arm. "Come on!"
    she urged him.
    They moved warily around the native, who smiled pleasantly at them as they
    edged past. Stepping out the door, they peered carefully about, but saw no waiting
    posse.
    Grace turned to look behind at the native, as it came to the doorway and stood
    watching them. She shook her head, perturbed. "Why are you just letting us go?
    Everyone else wants to sacrifice us to that Shamileth."
    The Isconian smiled. "I am not believing."
    Grace stared. "What?"
    The blue humanoid pointed at her and Brian. "That you are part of Shamelith."
    Brian glared at the native. "Grace, can you make head or tails of what it's
    saying? Because _I_ sure can't."
    "You are not of here. Not part of Shamileth."
    Grace blinked. "I don't believe it - I think we managed to run into a native with
    some common sense." She looked gingerly at Brian. "I guess we got lucky..."
    "Oh. Great. Well, we'll be going, now."
    The Isconian stepped forward. "I will come with you."
    "No way-"
    "Am coming _with_ you."
    "How do we know you're not just going to turn us in?"
    The Isconian stared hard at them. "Told you - not part of Shamelith."
    "Look, why don't we just find the Doctor, and get _out_ of here," Grace suggested
    through gritted teeth. "Maybe this guy here can help us..."
    She twitched suddenly and Brian leaned forward. They both could hear a dull
    roar, as if of a crowd cheering, away across the town.
    They looked at each other uneasily.
    "Something's happened," Grace said, unnecessarily.  
      
    To be continued...


	12. Part 12

**Reunion - Part 12**   
  
  
  

    
    The Doctor stood in the main street, at bay. As he'd fled his pursuers, thestreets around him had quickly filled up with Isconians, and it hadn't takenhim long to realize that the entire town seemed to have turned out to find him.He'd made straight for the perimeter, only to find that it was already toolate - the village was surrounded.
    Roving groups of searching Isconians had played him back and forth across
    the town like a cat with a mouse. He'd sneaked once through the center of the
    village, hoping to break through the lines of searchers where they were least
    concentrated, only to find himself caught.
    Well, so he'd underestimated the Isconians' zeal. He'd been in worse situations
    before. Hard to think of one at the moment...
    "It's nice to be popular, but *this* is a bit much," he muttered disconsolently,
    as he stood, ringed by a huge mob of excited, celebratory Isconians. Evidently,
    being able to participate in the hunt like this was an honor, as well as entertaining.
    How nice for them.
    Well, at least he should have given Grace and Brian enough time to get away,
    the Doctor mused hopefully.
    A merry shout went up from the crowd as several Isconians made their way
    through the line of natives. It was Baranac and his 'honor guard'.
    "I don't suppose you would have the openness of mind to consider that labeling
    me as one of your 'Offerings' might be a mistake?" the Doctor inquired mildly, as
    the guards, stolid and unimaginative in the way of guards everywhere, flanked
    him.
    Baranac bowed to him. "You have tested us well, 'Doctor'," the leader told
    him. "For that we thank you. Now we can complete the Rejoining."
    "Lucky me."
    "Yes," Baranac agreed as they started back along the boulevard.
    The Doctor sighed. No sense of sarcasm, the spoil-sport. Yanking the chains
    of those in authority helped keep his spirits up while being dragged about by said
    authorities...
    He grinned. To heck with the Prime Directive anyway. "Baranac, what if I
    told you I wasn't a part of Shamileth, but a traveler from another planet?"
    Baranac turned his head to look at him stolidly. "What is 'planet'?"
    "Another world."
    "World?"
    Talk about no conceptual framework...
    "I suppose you think Isconia is flat."
    Baranac turned a scandalized gaze upon him. "Of course not! Everyone knows
    the world is a _bowl_!"
    The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, good. You had me worried there for a minute."
    An Isconian approached their group, quite concerned, if the flared nose slits were
    anything to go by. "Baranac, the 'she' has left the place of waiting," he said,
    glancing uncertainly at the Doctor, who grinned widely upon hearing the words.
    "We are searching everywhere."
    Everybody looked to Baranac for his reaction.
    He considered for a moment. "The 'she' tests us well, as the 'Doctor' here did.
    When I know the will of Shamileth, I will tell you all."
    Fironec looked from Baranac to the Doctor and back again. He was just opening
    his mouth to speak, when yet another Isconian rushed up.
    "Fironec!" the newcomer said urgently, before doing a double-take upon noticing
    Baranac and the Doctor and switching his attention to their leader. "Baranac, the
    'Doctor' Offering was seen leaving the place of waiting, with the 'she'. We are
    searching, but we haven't yet found them..."
    Baranac blinked, then looked aside at the Doctor, who shrugged modestly.
    "No matter," Baranac reassured them. "The Doctor-Offering is here now."
    He indicated the Time Lord with a hand.
    Fironec and the other messenger blinked at the discontinuity of appearence
    between the 'Doctor' Offering standing before them and the one they'd seen,
    but they both stepped back, content to accept their leader's pronouncement.
    The group continued on, and soon arrived at a small stone building into which
    his escorts led the Doctor. He glanced around. Merely a temporary holding
    cell. The guards backed out again, but Baranac remained.
    "Baranac," the Doctor said, "explain to me again why you are so sure _I'm_
    a part of Shamileth."
    Baranac took a deep breath, and the Doctor realized that he was about to launch
    into his litany again.
    "_No_," he said sharply, cutting the Isconian off. "I don't want you to tell me
    what you've learned, I want you to tell me what _you_, Baranac, think."
    Baranac peered at him for a long moment. "Don't understand," he said flatly.
    "Yes you _do_," the Doctor said sternly. "You know exactly what I mean.
    Do you really think that I'm a part of Shamileth? Yes or no?"
    "Yes." Baranac stared straight ahead, not looking at the Doctor.
    "Why?" One simple word.
    The Isconian swiveled his head around. "Because it is Remembered."
    "I want to know what _you_ think.
    "Is irrelevant," Baranac snapped. The Doctor blinked. He was finally getting
    an emotional reaction out of the Isconian. It was time to read delicately - at this
    point he might either break through Baranac's conditioning, or drive him back
    into the comfort of ritual.
    "What makes a fragment of Shamileth a 'fragment'?"
    "It is incomplete," Baranac answered, seeming relieved that the questioning
    had veered away from his personal opinions.
    "So you're saying that _I'm_ incomplete?"
    "Yes," Baranac said, tranquilly, relieved to be back on familiar ground.
    "But I'm _not_."
    Baranac blinked. "You are not of us. You must be part of Shamileth!" the
    Isconian leader declared.
    "Baranac," the Doctor said gently, "it's possible to be different and _not_
    be a part of Shamileth."
    The blue humanoid stared at him, bemused.
    _Let me stretch your conceptual framework._ "Baranac. If I were a lost
    part of Shamileth, which I'm not, it wouldn't be just because I'm different
    from you and your people, don't you see?"
    There was a pause while Baranac thought this over.
    "Baranac, have the Offerings to Shamethil _always_ looked different, looked
    like me?"
    "No," Baranac admitted slowly. "They have been of the People, and they
    offer themselves to Shamileth. They do not 'test' us, as you have."
    "Then it is not being _different_ per se that makes one an Offering."
    "Noo..." Baranac conceded. He looked up at the Doctor keenly. "Why do
    you say all this?"
    The Doctor felt a twinge of hope. Sometimes, if you were very careful, it was
    possible to work a person through the conditioning someone like the Master had
    imposed on them. Not often, but if you carefully worried at them, prodded them
    to think...
    Almost there. Something in Baranac could feel it, too, was fighting to come to
    the fore...
    "What was it that made someone a fragment of Shamileth, again?"
    "When one is incomplete, one Returns to Shamileth," Baranac said, automatically.
    He blinked, and shook his head sightly.
    The Doctor repressed the desire to grin widely. Baranac finally appeared to be
    accessing his true memories of the Liturgy of Shamileth as it had been passed down
    from generation to generation of Isconian religious leaders, instead of the hastily
    implanted 'revisions' the Master had evidentally imposed upon him.
    And the clincher: "Baranac, I am different. But I am *not* incomplete."
    Baranac turned to stare at him.
    "Therefore, I don't need to return to Shamileth," the Doctor concluded reasonably,
    spreading his arms wide.
    Baranac gazed at him and nodded, slowly. "I understand. But then why are you
    here?"
    The Doctor approached the door. "Well, if you'll just let me out, I'll find my
    friends, and we will return whence we came."
    Baranac thought. "Your friends. The 'she'?"
    The Doctor smiled. "Yes. And another 'he'."
    Baranac turned. "Open the door," he called to the guards outside.
    But when the door swung open, it wasn't an Isconian who stood facing them.
    It was the Master.
    Even as the Doctor took a step forward in instinctive outrage at the sight of his
    old rival, the Master leaned forward, caught Baranac's eyes with his gaze, and
    undid in seconds all the Doctor's painstaking work.
    "Hello, Baranac. I see you have the Doctor-Offering, at last. You and your
    people will indeed be honored today."
    Baranac blinked several times as the implanted behavioral pathways were
    reinforced.
    "No!" the Doctor protested. "Baranac, don't listen to him! He's deceiving
    you! You speak for all your people - you can't let someone like _him_ distort
    your thinking!"
    Too late. Baranac turned to him. "It is _you_ who test us, Offering. It was
    well done, but our faith has held - it is now time for you to be returned to
    Shamileth." At his gesture, several guards stepped into the cell to take charge
    of the Offering.
    The Doctor shrugged angrily free of the guards and glared at his nemesis.
    "How very convenient for you," he snapped. "One of the few theocratic cultures
    where the people follow their religious leader utterly, with unquestioning faith."
    "Yes, _I_ thought so," the Master agreed, pleasantly. "And if it just so happens
    that _I_ have the ear of their ever-reborn Prophet..." He shrugged elaborately.
    The Doctor eyed his nemesis narrowly. When gloating, he tended to lay it on
    pretty thick.
    Baranac suddenly addressed the Master. "The 'she' Offering has escaped, and
    we have not been able to find it yet."
    The Master waved a hand negligently as he turned away. "We have the Doctor.
    That's all we really need right now."
    "But all Offerings must be Rejoined..."
    The Master whirled. "And I just told you it doesn't matter. I am of Shamileth - do
    you question its will?" he snapped, again locking eyes with the Isconian.
    "No. It shall be as you have said," Baranac replied, looking down diffidently.  
    "We should find the Doctor before we go," Grace said stubbornly, looking around
    as they hurried along the dimly-lit street, thankful for the cover of night. Jervol, as
    their Isconain companion had named himself, followed, his green eyes alight with
    curiosity.
    "Grace, he said to wait for him at the TARDIS. He's probably already there,
    waiting for us!" Brian protested.
    "Then why do I get the feeling that he has something to do with that crowd over
    there?"
    Brian hesitated, staring back at her.
    "You feel it too, don't you?" she accused.
    He dithered, glancing from the night-shrouded hills back to the lights and murmur
    of voices coming from the village square.
    "We could just check, before we go..."
    "Is Presentation."
    Grace and Brian both turnedto look at the Isconian, startled to be reminded of
    his presence. "What?"
    "Is the Presentation of the Offering to the People."
    A look of realization came over Grace's face. "Like they did with me, you mean."
    "Yes. Was there. Saw _you_."
    She shook her head. "But I thought you didn't believe I was a part of your god...."
    "Don't believe. Still wanted to see."
    "Jervol," Grace asked earnestly, "what will they do after this Presentation?"
    "The Rejoining."
    "Brian, we've got to do something _now_!"
    He stared at her, his face twisted in perturbation. "But if they catch us-!"
    "They won't," she declared, confidently, and strode forward, tugging on his
    arm. "Come on! We've got to stick together."  
    The Doctor watched calmly as Isconian after Isconian paraded past him and his
    'honor guard'. Baranac stood at his side and the Master stood behind them. If
    the Doctor felt any discomfort from the malice of his rival's gaze, he didn't show it.
    The Doctor glanced aside at the Isconian leader, and Baranac returned his gaze.
    They looked at each other for a few moments, before another supplicant stepped
    forward to greet them and Baranac had to turn his attention away.
    It was definitely keen intelligence he saw in those eyes, not zombie-like compliance,
    the Doctor noted. Despite the sway the Master held over Baranac, there might still
    be a chance to again break through the hypnotic conditioning. Whether he'd have
    the chance to talk to Baranac again without the Master's interference was another
    matter.
    Well, at least Grace and Brian had gotten away. He could just about endure the
    Master's smug satisfaction, knowing that his friends were taking advantage of this
    chance he was giving them to escape. Whatever happened now, at least it was just
    between him and his rival...  
    "It looks like _everybody's_ there," Brian whispered hoarsely, as he peered cautiously
    around the corner of the building behind which he, Grace and Jervol were hiding.
    "Let me see!" Grace demanded, wriggling forward to look. "Oh, God..." her voice
    trailed off as she got her first look at the Doctor. He looked much the same as he had
    on that New Year's Day when he'd said good-bye and left in his TARDIS.
    They stared in dismay for a few minutes as the line of Isconians wound by.
    "There he is!" Grace hissed suddenly. Her voice had turned hard as flint. "Behind
    him - it's the 'Master'!"
    Brian looked at her, surprised by the venom in her voice. "Where?" he asked her,
    leaning forward.
    "There," she told him, pointing out the blond man where he stood, partially obscured
    by the Doctor's guards. Even from here, she could see the smug expression on his
    face. "That _bastard_."
    Brian was shocked. Grace caught his puzzled glance. "You don't know what he
    did-" She looked quickly away. "We've got to do something. We are *going* to
    do something," she said grimly, her hand clenching into a fist.
    Brian looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Grace, everyone in this town is in that
    square! Well, except Jervol, here..."
    Even as he spoke the words, though, their Isconian companion stepped forward.
    "Where are _you_ going?" Brian sputtered.
    "To the Presentation. Want to see."
    "I knew it! You're going to turn us in!" Brian stepped forward, fists clenched.
    Jervol was nimble. Even as the taller man moved toward him, the Isconian
    slipped aside. "Dammit, stay still!" Brian exclaimed.
    "Brian, we haven't got _time_ for this!" Grace hissed, exasperated. Jervol
    cocked his head at Grace's words. "Will not tell - want to see." In the twinkling
    of an eye, the Isconian disappeared into the night.
    "Great; now he's gone to warn the others," Brian growled. "Let's get out of
    here!"
    "Well, if you hadn't scared him off, he might have helped us!" Grace muttered,
    disgusted. "Brian, don't you _see_? The Master went to all this trouble just to
    get the Doctor!" she exclaimed, pointing to the ritual unfolding before them.
    "Grace, I don't like this any more than you, but what can we do against all
    of them?!" Brian stared, wishing heartily that he hadn't agreed to Grace's demand
    to come look. The thought of just leaving the Doctor behind to some horrible fate
    made him feel sick, but what could they do against the whole village? The Doctor
    had told him to go, had wanted him to go, had practically _ordered_ him to go...
    That crazy alien had dragged him into this adventure, but he didn't think he could
    live with himself if he just left him...
    Grace stared back at him, her face contorted with worry.
    "Do you know what they're going to do to him?" he prompted desperately.
    "They told me we were to be 'offerings' the this 'Shamileth, some sort of sacrifice."
    Brian stood in agonized indecision. What the hell could he say to a town of
    _aliens_, for cripes sake, to convince them to just let them all go?
    The line of natives was nearing the end. Grace grasped Brian's arm. "They're
    almost done."  
    The last few blue humanoids were passing by the Doctor and Baranac.
    The Doctor's attention was caught by a set of keen eyes that suddenly looked
    up at him, displaying none of the slavish devotion of the rest of the villagers.
    The native bowed slightly, then hesitated, glancing quickly at Baranac. Then,
    he stepped forward and whispered, "Saw the Others. Going away."
    The Doctor looked at him sharply. "Others?"
    The Isconian nodded. "Two like you. Different. Leaving."
    The Doctor smiled. "Thank you."
    Jervol glanced askance at the Master. "_Not_ of Shamileth!" he blurted out in a
    low voice.
    Behind them, Master leaned forward. "_What_ did he say?!" the renegade
    demanded.
    Baranac shrugged. "Didn't hear," he replied, as Jervol glanced wildly at the
    glaring Master and skittered away.
    Baranac abruptly stepped forward and said: "We go now to the place of
    Rejoining! Follow us!"
    Baranac lead the way out of the square. Immediately behind, the Doctor's
    guards prodded him forward. The Master strolled along behind them, and the
    entire village followed.
    And behind them, Grace and Brian slunk, full of fear and indecision.  
      
    To Be Continued...


	13. Part 13

**Reunion - Part 13**   
  
  
  

    
    The procession wound up the steep hillside, almost a mountain by Earth standards, that
    stood to the north of the village, then entered a large opening cut into the side of
    the slope. Grace and Brian looked at each other uncertainly, then crept carefully in
    after them.
    The tunnel of dry, carved stone they entered was dimly-lit by half-globes of the sort
    seen in the village. This might have started out as a natural tunnel, but it had definitely
    been refined by the Isconians.
    They hurried forward, following as close behind the echoes of the villagers as they
    dared.
    The echoes grew stronger, and Grace and Brian slowed down. Peering around a
    corner, they saw a huge cavern before them, lit with glow-globes. The entire population
    of the village fit into it nicely. Grace squinted, trying to see exactly what was taking
    place at the other end of the cave...
    She swallowed nervously. There was a large cleft in the floor. And that was where
    the Doctor was being taken.
    "Brian, they're going to throw him in there," she said, her hand grasping his arm so
    tightly that he drew in a startled, hissing breath. "I just know it. What are we going
    to _do_?"
    Brian looked at Grace, at the scene ahead of them, then back at her as they crept
    forward into the cavern as close as they dared, and hid behind two of the stalagmites
    that spiraled up to the ceiling, forming natural pillars.
    "_You're_ staying back _here_, out of sight," Brian told her. He held up a hand
    as she opened her mouth to protest. "Look, Grace, just _do_ this for me, all right?
    Please don't argue, just this once, okay?" He took her hands for a moment. "If it
    doesn't work, here's the key to the TARDIS..." He took the spare key off and
    slipped the cord it was on over her head.
    She grimaced in exasperation. "Brian, what are you--?"
    "I'm going to go talk to them," he said grimly, turning away and striding forward,
    with far more resolution than he felt. "I'll tell them that this Master guy is a liar; how
    bad he is." He ignored her whispered hiss of "Brian!". If he'd glanced back, he'd
    have seen her cautiously shadowing him.
    Every stride brought him closer to the congregation gathered under fantastic alien
    patterns and eerily-glowing red-orange globes. His steps began to slow somewhat.
    "What the hell am I _doing_?" he muttered desperately as he drew near the back of
    the crowd.
    Well, the saying 'never let 'em see you sweat' certainly applied in this situation.
    Boy, did it ever. He shut his eyes for a few seconds, squared his shoulders, and
    marched forward.  
    The Doctor stared in dismay at the drop before him.
    "A pit," he muttered, closing his eyes momentarily. "Why did it have to be a pit?"
    Behind him, the Master stirred. "Baranac," he asked serenely, "may I have a
    moment alone with the Offering?"
    The Isconian leader tilted his head, looking at the renegade keenly, then nodded.
    He and the guards moved away.
    The Doctor tore his eyes away from the drop before him to glance scornfully at
    his rival.
    The Master smirked. "Oh, don't take it so hard, Doctor," he said. "You and I
    have always been Fate-Linked, pitted against each other as we have been, again and
    again. And despite the set-backs, I've always known that one day I was destined
    to be the cause of your destruction."
    The Doctor stared intently at his nemesis for several long, tense moments, his
    eyes narrowed.
    Then he threw back his head and laughed out loud. Heads turned in surprise as
    the Doctor's merriment rang out over the anticipatory murmur of the devotees.
    "That," the Doctor said, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief as he recovered
    from his guffaw, "is the most _ridiculous_ thing I have _ever_ heard."
    The Master's own eyes narrowed in anger. The Doctor was still chuckling in
    amusement when the renegade stepped near and back-handed him across the
    face.
    There was a mutter of surprise from those who had seen it happen. Baranac and
    the honor guard, despite having moved politely away, certainly had, and now
    stood staring at the two Time Lords.
    The Doctor slowly turned his head back from where the blow had snapped it
    around to stare at his rival, his face expressionless.
    "Been developing a taste for that lately, have you?" he said softly. "You used
    to be above that sort of thing."
    The Master stared back at him, slowly smiling as he regained his self-control.
    "You'll mock me no longer," he told the Doctor quietly. "You don't fully
    understand the situation yet, so I'll explain. You think they're just going to
    throw you in there." He indicated the crevice with a toss of his head. "You
    don't think I lured you all the way out here just to watch you fall into a pit, as
    amusing as that would be?"
    The Doctor stared back at him, his hearts sinking. No, something that simple
    wasn't the Master's style.
    "You probably think me a cynical manipulator of these being's faith," the
    Master continued, with a hand indicating the congregation behind them, "but
    the truth is, I _know_ that 'Shamileth' exists, Doctor. What the Isconians call
    'Shamileth' is actually a hibernating Old One, trapped below when this world
    was formed. _Eons_ it has been slumbering, Doctor. The natives became
    aware of it; apparently they possess a sensitivity to its presence. All the other
    'Offerings' over the centuries, native Isconians all, were attempts to bring the
    Old One to full awareness, but sadly, were a waste of time. On the other hand,
    contact with a more potent mind, say, a _Time Lord_ mind, should do the trick
    nicely."
    "You're _serious_," the Doctor said, staring hard at him.
    "I've always wanted to meet a newly-awakened Old One, Doctor," the Master
    admitted. "Flush with the incredible powers they are heir to, yet for a few
    moments disorientated, perhaps amenable to the direction of a strong will..."
    He stepped back slightly, smirking, as the Doctor leaned forward, his face
    creased in outrage.
    "If you think you can control an Old One..." He shook his head in disbelief.
    "Every time I see you, your ability to delude yourself has grown by leaps and
    bounds! You won't be able to control it, you'll just have unleashed it upon this
    unsuspecting planet!"
    Infuriatingly, the Master merely shrugged. "Not every experiment works as
    expected, Doctor. Still, I'm looking forward to seeing what happens."
    The Doctor glanced warily down the edge of the pit. Was that an eldrich,
    loathesome glow he saw, way down below?
    He turned. "Baranac!" he called, striding quickly over to the Isconian leader.
    Baranac looked at the Doctor expectantly. "You are now ready to Rejoin
    Shamileth?" the Isconia asked.
    The Doctor grimaced. "If I rejoin Shamileth, it may bring disaster upon your
    village, your whole world," he told the Isconian leader urgently. "Stop this
    ritual - please!"
    Baranac looked at the Doctor a little uncertainly. The being, the 'he' before
    him was incomplete, a fragment of Shamileth. How could returning it to its
    source be a bad thing for his people?
    "Are you saying that it is not your proper time yet?" Baranac asked the figure
    before him.
    Exactly!" the Doctor said, smiling encouragingly. As a stop-gap measure, this
    would do. "For me to return _now_ would be disastrous!"
    The Master came up close behind him. "Still testing, eh, Doctor?" he inquired
    innocently.
    Baranac hesitated, confused.
    "It's not my time!" the Doctor insisted fiercely.
    "Oh, but it is," the Master said, leaning forward. "You know where your duty
    lies, don't you, Baranac?"
    "Baranac, no!" the Doctor exclaimed, trying one last time to break through
    the Master's compulsion. "He's wrong!"
    His guards suddenly stepped forward and grabbed him again. They were
    certainly convinced. Baranac blinked and shook his head slightly. "Yes,"
    he finally agreed, nodding. "It is time."
    The Doctor made an incoherent noise of frustration as the guards hauled him
    forward to the edge of the crevice. "Baranac, listen to me-!" he said, desperately.
    "Long ago, Shamileth was scattered across the whole world, and beneath, and
    above. Now, all parts seek to return, to be whole once again. For each piece,
    a time to return, to be Rejoined. The task of the Faithful is to assist, to aid the
    Reunion, to help those fragments which have forgotten from whence they came.
    All must be returned."
    The litany completed, Baranac turned to the honor guard. "Return the fragment
    to Shamil-"
    "Stop!" A voice rang out from behind the congregation. "Shamethil commands
    it!"
    Heads turned in involuntary surprise. The Doctor's guards turned him slightly
    away from the edge of the crevice as they craned their necks in a attempt to better
    see.
    The Doctor blinked. "_Shamethil_?" he muttered.
    The crowd of Isconians parted as a figure boldly made its way through.
    Brian Dempster, very pale, strode to the open space before the pit. He stopped,
    staring around at the tableau his arrival had interrupted, and then drew himself
    up and blurted out:
    "I am the voice of Shamethil. I mean Shamileth. I command you to stop this
    Rejoining immediately!"  
    The smile on the Master's face grew wider as he gazed at the man before him.
    "Well, well, well," he said slowly, amused. "Mr. Brian Dempster." He looked
    around. "Where is Doctor Holloway?"
    Brian glanced at him warily. "Do not listen to him!" he declared, pointing at
    the Master. "He is evil, and not a part of Shamelith" He grimaced. "Shamileth."
    The Doctor saw the expression on his nemesis' face. "Brian!' the Doctor
    exclaimed. "You've got to get out of here! Take Grace and _go_!"
    "Why Baranac, look!" the Master declared, his voice silk and honey. "We
    are indeed honored today! Here is another Offering!"
    "Didn't you hear what I said?" Brian said fiercely, looking all around. "This
    has to stop, now!"
    "_Brian_," the Master purred. Brian glanced over automatically, and an
    instant later was caught. The Doctor closed his eyes in despair as the renegade
    Time Lord beckoned with an index finger.
    "Don't," the Doctor asked quietly, not needing to look to know what was
    happening.
    Brian walked obediently over to stand before the Master.
    "Brian, I am the Master, and you will obey me. Do you understand?"
    "Yes," Brian replied, dully.
    "Good. It is your time to return to Shamileth. Just go to the edge of that pit
    over there, and fall in."
    "Yes. Of course," Brian replied, as if it were the most reasonable request in
    the world. The Isconians watched with interest as he turned and walked directly
    towards the edge of the crevice.  
      
    To be continued...

  
  



	14. Part 14

**Reunion - Part 14**   
  
  
  

    
    Grace stared, appalled, as Brian's brave if ill-advised attempt to stop the
    Rejoining ritual went to hell in a handbasket.
    "**NO**!!" she screamed, throwing herself at the crowd and desperately elbowing her way through the press of Isconians.  
    Something penetrated the fog obscuring Brian Dempster's mind. He blinked, only
    to find himself stepping off the edge of a cliff. One foot was extending forth into
    nothingness, as if expecting support where there was none.
    Crying out as he stumbled forward, he heard two echoes of his own shriek of
    horror behind him as he twisted instinctively and desperately, reaching around to
    grab hold of something, _anything_-
    Amazingly, his hands flailed out, found and grabbed hold of a projecting chunk
    of rock embedded at the edge of the pit, and he hung there, trembling with shock
    and adrenaline.
    White with horror, Grace burst through the crowd and flung herself forward,
    ignoring everyone present, eyes only for Brian's peril. She dropped to her knees
    at the edge and reached to grab his hands-
    -Behind her, a hand reached down, entwining itself in her hair. She cried out
    in surprise and pain as the Master viciously yanked her to her feet and restrained
    her.
    She squirmed around, her eyes darting to first glance over at the Doctor, then
    around to the surrounding Isconians.
    "Why don't you all stop him! Can't you see how _twisted_ he is?!" she shouted.
    "Well!" the Master exclaimed, an expression of almost ecstatic triumph on his
    face. "Now that we are all reunited, let the Rejoining proceed!"
    The Doctor leaned forward, involuntarily blurting out one heart-felt word.
    "_Don't_-!"
    "After all that has occured between us, you would have the _audacity_ to ask that
    of me, Doctor?" the Master said softly, shaking his head in disbelief.
    "First him," he declared, pointing to Brian where he hung, "then her," he said,
    shaking Grace, "and then, finally, _you_." He pointed at the Doctor where he was
    trying to twist out of the grip of his guards, a look of fearful intensity on his face.
    "Isn't that _right_, Baranac?" the Master snarled, directing a glare at the Isconian.
    Baranac stared back at the renegade Time Lord, glanced momentarily at the Doctor,
    at Grace, then over at the pit where Brian's hands could be seen, still gripping the
    edge of the crevice.
    Baranac looked back to the Master. "Yes," the blue humanoid replied expressionlessly.
    He abruptly strode over to where Brian, his body shaking with the effort it took to
    hold on just a few more seconds, desperately clung.
    "Baranac, _don't_!"
    Grace's eyes were welling with involuntary tears. The Master took hold of her
    chin, turning her head so as to force her to watch as Baranac reached down to dislodge
    Brian's grip-
    -as Baranac reached down, grabbed hold of Brian's almost nerveless arms, and
    hauled him up back over the edge to safety.
    The Master gawped. _What?!_
    The next instant, strong hands grabbed him from behind.
    Caught utterly off-guard, he twisted, snarling. Grace, released, stumbled away.
    Infuriated, the Master struggled fiercely, but the two Isconians who had taken hold
    of him were a match for his strength - barely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could
    see that the Doctor had been set free.
    "What is the meaning of this?!"the Master snarled.
    Baranac was standing in front of him. "You told me that although you were like
    the others, it was not yet your time to return, that the others _had_ to be Returned
    despite their protests, that Shamileth tested us." He shook his head slowly. "Your
    disruptive behavior is proof that it is _you_ who most desperately need to return to
    your source."
    The Master glared at the Isconian leader hatefully.
    "Return him," Baranac told the guards quietly.
    The villagers murmured in excitement as the guards quickly dragged the vainly-struggling
    Master to the edge of the crevice.
    The Doctor and Grace were crouched next to Brian where he was slumped on the
    cavern floor, regaining the feeling in his arms. The Time Lord turned his attention back
    to Baranac and the Master just in time to see the two guards push the renegade out over
    the edge of the pit, as he shrieked out in fury.
    For once, the two rival Time Lords agreed on something.
    "NOOOOO!!!" they both screamed.
    Too late. The Master tumbled down into the darkness and was gone.  
    The Doctor rushed to the edge of the crevice, his face crumpled in horror.
    "Oh, no," he whispered. "What have you _done_?" He glanced at Baranac, who
    stood nearby, similarly peering down.
    "He has been Rejoined with Shamileth," the Isconian said simply. "It had to be done."
    He radiated no joy, no satisfaction; his was a mere statement of fact.
    The Doctor looked at him, pale. "And the rest of us?" he asked steadily.
    Baranac tilted his head. "I heard what that 'he' said, saw what it did. And I heard
    what you and the others said and did. It may be that, as you told me, it is indeed *not*
    yet your time to Return. Unless you want to?" he inquired politely.
    The Doctor smiled gingerly. "Erm, no," he said. "Thank you for asking."
    A sudden low rumble down in the depths of the pit caught their attention. The
    Doctor stared downwards in consternation. "Oh, no," he groaned. "It may be a
    moot point, at this rate. I think 'Shamileth' is awakening *now*."
    Baranac looked at him curiously, his green eyes starting to glow with eagerness
    as the low rumble, almost a subsonic vibration, began to grow. "The Awakening!"
    he exclaimed. "Why do you look at me so sad? It is this for which we faithful have
    labored!"
    The Doctor raised his voice to be heard over the increasing noise. "Haven't you ever
    heard the saying 'Be careful what you wish for, you may get it'?" Baranac stared at
    him, bemused, and the Doctor shook his head impatiently as the air current rising out
    of the pit sent locks of his hair fluttering. "Never mind! It's just that your god may
    not be as friendly as you might like - Great Ones have been known to be rather cranky
    when they first wake up!"
    He scrambled away from the edge of the crevice, leaving the Isconian leader behind,
    still peering down in anticipation.
    Grace looked up as the Doctor appeared at her and Brian's side. "Grace! Brian!"
    he shouted, "I'd say it's time for us to leave!"
    Grace glanced quickly around at the vibrating cavern and the fascinated Isconians.
    "Sure!" she said. "_Can_ we?"
    "Yes! They've other things on their mind!"
    He helped his two companions to their feet, and they turned, searching for a way
    through the crowd-
    -only to find their way completely blocked.
    The villagers, ecstatically entranced, presented a solid line of bodies. They were
    moving forward, closer to the edge of the pit, and the three travelers were forced
    back towards the edge.
    "They're going to jump in," Brian exclaimed in dismay, "taking us with them!"
    The Doctor shook his head, staring intently at the Isconians. "No, I don't think
    so..."
    The cavern walls behind them were suddenly bathed in a shifting rainbow of hues,
    and they quickly turned, startled.
    "...but I think we're going to have no choice but to meet Shamileth, too," the
    Doctor concluded softly. He put an arm around the shoulders of his companions
    where they stood uncertainly on either side of him.
    "Well," he remarked, smiling slightly as he looked from one to the other, "it's not
    every day you get to meet a god. Or, rather, an 'Old One'."
    "'Old One'?" Grace asked, gingerly.
    "Should we be saying good-bye, or something, is that what you're saying?" Brian
    asked shakily.
    The Doctor shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I don't know," he admitted. "I
    suppose it couldn't hurt-"
    Baranac gave a sudden shout and stumbled back from the edge of the crevice as
    the light streaming up out of the pit reached a blinding intensity. Behind them,
    the Isconians echoed their leader in a wild, joyful cry. The Time Lord and his
    human companions, their senses overwhelmed by the energy pouring out of the
    pit, cried out themselves, and crumpled to the ground.  
      
    To be concluded...

  
  



	15. Part 15 - Conclusion

**Reunion - Conclusion**   
  
  
  

    
    What happened next Grace found herself forever after at a loss to adequately describe.The best she could do was to offer a few inadequate phrases, such as: 'like feelingcolors', or 'a language I couldn't understand', or 'it was as if a mind
    touched _my_ mind, and for a moment we were in the same place, do you understand?'
    Had tentacles of some sort been involved? Perhaps, though she could never say
    for sure. She'd certainly had better things to focus on at the time, such as how to
    survive an assault of far more information than the human body and mind had ever
    been designed to take.
    Of course, at the time, she didn't know that rationally. Something utterly different
    than her reached out and _touched_ her. She just experienced, and somehow,
    miraculously, endured.
    In retrospect, she assumed that the Doctor must have had something to do with
    that. After all, he wasn't human; he must have been the key, the element that had
    helped them survive. His muttered comment afterwards of "If it weren't for you two..."
    while shaking his head, must have been a joke. Of course.
    At any rate, the entity known as Shamileth swept majestically up and out of its dark
    prison and flooded the entire population of the Isconian village and the three visitors
    with its instinctive joy in the few seconds before it swept up through the roof of the
    cavern.  
    Grace gradually returned to herself and rationality, and wept.
    "_Nooo_!" she wailed, grief-stricken, feeling as though her heart would break.
    "I-I understood what it was saying, but now it's gone!"
    The Doctor turned quickly from where he'd just finished administering psychic
    first aid to Brian and quickly grabbed Grace's head, turning her face to stare into
    his eyes. If he didn't act in time as he had with Brian, her mind might snap under
    the shock of the separation.
    "Grace!" he shouted desperately, shaking her. "Look at me!" She blinked, and
    her glazed eyes regained their awareness, locking onto his.
    "It's gone," she said, tears leaking slowly out of her eyes, her face a mask of
    misery. Her mouth twisted. "I lost it..."
    "Grace! Listen to me," he said. "It's not gone - it's in _you_."
    Her eyes shifted instinctively up towards the cavern roof high above through
    which the entity had departed.
    "No!" he said, drawing her attention back to him. "It's still in you, all you
    experienced, all you felt. You haven't lost it." She stared at him, calmer now.
    "Grace," he said, soothingly, "you've experienced something incredible. You
    can't remember it all at once, but it's in here." He smiled and gently tapped her
    forehead. "It will return to you from time to time, a feeling here, a sensation
    there. You haven't lost it - it will come back to you as you need it."
    Grace smiled hesitantly at him then, and he slumped slightly in relief, hugging
    her to him. Glancing over to see how Brian was faring, he saw him watching
    them, and pulled him in, too.
    They sat like that for quite some time, oblivious to the stirrings of the Isconians
    around them.  
    Amazingly, the village of Isconians seemed to have sustained no fatalities from
    their encounter with the 'divine'. Glancing around, the Doctor saw Baranac getting
    to his feet. The Isconian looked around tranquilly at the recovering villagers, then
    noticed the Doctor and his friends and approached.
    The Isconian stood, looking down at the trio where they sat.
    The Doctor peered up at Baranac. "Congratulations. It's not every day you get
    to meet your god. Though it didn't stay for very long."
    Baranac smiled, then suddenly glanced knowingly up through the ceiling of the
    cavern. "Shamileth returns."
    The Doctor looked quickly up in concern, his pulses quickening. "Oh, dear,"
    he muttered. "I wonder if this Shamileth understands the concept of 'too much of
    a good thing'. We're not really designed to deal with that large an amount of raw
    input..."
    Baranac's body abruptly jerked as his eyes fluttered closed. When they re-opened,
    they were glowing. Grace and Brian gaped at the sight. The Doctor was somewhat
    less impressed.
    "Greetings, 'Time-Walker'," Baranac said serenely.
    "Hello, 'Shamileth'," the Doctor replied calmly. "Or do you have another name
    you prefer?"
    Baranac paused before answering. "Shamileth is adequate."
    And names had power. No matter.
    The Doctor glanced around momentarily. The Isconians had formed into small
    groups, and were sitting quietly, apparently meditating.
    Baranac stood, expectantly regarding the Doctor, who found himself searching
    his memory for the proper protocol to use when chatting with a newly-awakened
    Old One...
    Oh, well - he'd never much been one for protocol.
    "What are you going to do, now that you've awakened?" he inquired politely.
    "Go to Disneyland..." someone blurted out behind them.
    Both the Doctor and Grace turned involuntarily to stare.
    "I can't _believe_ I just said that!" Brian exclaimed, wincing. "It-it just came
    out!" He glanced gingerly at Baranac where the possessed Isconian stood, his
    head tilted and a curious expression on his face.
    The being suddenly locked eyes with Brian, who stared back, his face gone
    slack. Baranac abruptly nodded. "Ah. Exploration. Discovery.
    Joy. Yes." He paused momentarily, then took on an air of amusement..
    "Was...Ill. Too much Joy."
    Brian slumped, released, and blinked, shaking his head. "You-you _saw_
    my memories," he muttered, astonished. "From that time my parents took me
    and my brothers to Disneyland. It was as if it was happening all over again..."
    "You will go out into the universe, meet your brethryn?" the Doctor asked.
    "Already met some," Shamileth informed them, through Baranac. "I will
    travel, explore. But I like _here_." Baranac glanced around. "It is..._home_."
    The possessed Isconian cocked his head mischeviously at the Doctor. "Farewell,
    Time-Walker. Until next time."
    Baranac's body twitched as his eyes rolled up in his head. He then slumped,
    but regained his balance before he could fall. His eyes had returned to normal.
    The Doctor let out a little sigh of relief. "Well, _that_ went rather well.
    Considering."
    "Considering what?"
    "Well, Grace, it _was_ an 'Old One'. They aren't the most predictable of
    beings, you know."
    "So I hear."
    The Doctor blinked, then looked over at Baranac. "Well, it looks as though
    you have got yourselves a resident god, after all. Good luck!"
    Baranac merely smiled back contentedly. "Farewell." He turned away to
    rejoin his people.  
    The three travelers emerged from the cave into the early pre-dawn chill. In the
    east, the gray horizon was tinged with yellow.
    "Come on," the Doctor told his companions. "The TARDIS is this way." He
    led them unerringly over the wooded hillside to where his blue Time Ship stood
    covered with Isconian dew, unlocked the door, and led his friends inside.  
    "Doctor?" Grace asked quietly, as the Time Capsule made its noisy way through
    the Vortex back towards Earth.
    He looked up. "Yes?"
    "Was it really the Master being thrown down into that pit that awoke 'Shamileth'?"
    "Well, he did say that he thought a Time Lord mind would shock it awake, so
    yes, that may be what happened. Of course, I can't say for sure."
    "Does that mean he'd become a part of it, at the end?"
    The Doctor looked momentarily thoughtful, and a bit grave. "I don't know.
    Perhaps..." He looked at her curiously. "Why do you ask?"
    She smiled slightly. "Well, if that were the case...then I suppose you could say
    that he was the cause of something beautiful, there at the end. Even if only by
    accident."
    She turned away. He watched her go, then looked down sadly.  
    **February 14, 2000. 7:12 A.M. Lafeyette Park, San Francisco.**  
    Doctor Grace Holloway and Brian Dempster stepped out of a pocket dimension
    and back into their own time and space to find themselves facing a beautiful clear
    late winter morning.
    Their alien friend joined them a moment later. They had landed back in the park
    across from Grace's condo.
    "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Grace asked Brian lightly.
    "Goodness knows the Doctor owes both of us a quick trip to somewhere nice.
    It'll only be a short visit..."
    He looked back at her intently, as if searching for some deeper message behind
    the words. A few moments later he smiled wanly. "Thanks, but I've had enough
    traveling for a while." He hesitated, then stepped forward and gave Grace a quick
    embrace. "I'm glad I was able to see you again. Even if the, ah, circumstances
    were really strange."
    She smiled. "Yeah...me, too. Thanks. For everything."
    The Doctor, smiling warmly, stepped forward to clasp Brian's hand in a firm
    handshake. "To say 'thank you' might be redundant, but..._Thank you_."
    Brian smiled and shrugged somewhat self-consciously.
    The Time Lord suddenly leaned conspiratively forward to mutter in Brian's ear.
    "I shouldn't worry too much," he whispered. "The answer will be 'yes'." He
    released Brian's hand and moved away.
    Brian blinked, unnerved, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. "What-?"
    He stopped, and shook his head several times. "Never mind. I'll just, ah...wait,
    and find out on my own."
    The Doctor beamed, and Grace shot him an odd look before she and the Time
    Lord stepped back within the blue box and the doors swung shut. Fascinated,
    Brian stared as the shape shimmered away, to the accompaniment of the most
    God-awful grinding racket he'd ever heard.
    When the 'police box' was gone, he walked slowly forward, arms cautiously
    out-stretched, to where it had been standing. Nothing. It had truly vanished.
    Squaring his shoulders, he turned and started resolutely off across the
    lightly-frosted park grass.  
    Half-way across the park, Brian saw an early-morning jogger. "Hey!" he shouted
    at him as he huffed by. "What's the date today?"
    The fellow gave him an amused glance, as if assuming that Brian had obviously
    had much too much fun the night before, to be so discombobulated. "February the
    fourteenth - Valentine's day. You need to know the year, too?"
    "It's still Two-thousand, right?"
    "Yeah. Right," the jogger replied with a smirk, as he ran off.
    Brian breathed a big sigh of relief and, grinning, stuck his hands in his jacket
    pockets to protect them from the chill morning air, before continued briskly on
    his way.
    A minute later, all of what the jogger had said registered fully.
    Several squirrels out uncovering the seed caches they'd hid during the fall looked
    up, startled, as the lone human passing by stopped momentarily and let out a bark
    of a laugh, before continuing on his way, shaking his head with rueful amusement.  
      
    **The End.** Or should I say, the Beginning...? ;-)  
      
    I'm not a coward, I've just never been testedI'd like to think that if I was I would pass...
    --The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

  
  



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